


Trapped In Darkness

by Nadja_Lee



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherhood, Captivity, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Happy Ending, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Love, Minor Character Death, Mutant Registration Act, Mutant Rights, Native Rights, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism, Rape Recovery, Rebellion, Romance, Teenage Pregnancy, Torture, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 36
Words: 110,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22844188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadja_Lee/pseuds/Nadja_Lee
Summary: Some of the X-men – Logan, Scott, Jean, Ororo, Xavier, Bobby, St. John, Jubilee, Remy, Kitty and Peter - are captured and taken as slaves by a government who consider mutants lesser beings. Will they survive long enough for the remaining X-men to save them and even if they do will they manage to get through the ordeal? Fear, love, brotherhood, trust, sacrifice and survival become main concerns as the X-men fight to find a way home – any way they can.[Published as a zine in 2008 and published online here for the first time]
Relationships: Bobby Drake/Jubilation Lee, Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Kitty Pryde/Piotr Rasputin, Logan/Rogue (X-Men)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 820





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to:  
> Marianne who inspired me to write this story with her own story “X-Men: Friends Of Humanity”.  
> Christina for the read through and Marianne for the read through and approval.  
> Many thanks to Sorcieré who got so fascinated with BT that she wrote a better part of chapter 22; BT’s flashback to be precise. Thanks so much, luv. You’re the best!  
> Beta by: Estelle and Cathain. Thanks so much.  
> Final editing by: Nancy and Jonas. Thanks again so much. Without you two this story would be a poor excuse of a novel. I couldn’t have done it without you. *hugs*  
> Artwork by: Cover art as well as all other colour images except the image of Jean alone is by Nadine (Crashdowngrrl@aol.com ). The 2 B/W images are by TJ (TazzyJan@aol.com). Jean image by Nadja Lee. Thanks so much to you both and a special thanks to Nadine; as always I remain in awe of your talent. Back cover by Nadja Lee, effects on it done by Nadine.  
> Dedicated to: Bani who liked the beginning of this story but who sadly never got to read the finished work. You were a bright star in my world and I’ll always miss you. Rest in peace.  
> Things written like *this* are things said telepathically.

## Prologue

#### In the not so distant future

The captain looked at the files on his desk again. Despite the mission’s level of difficulty he could understand why his superiors had ordered it. These mutants were extraordinary. Most mutations resulted in rather harmless mutants, people who were different in some way like having six toes or green hair, but he had never found a mutant that came close to having the amazing powers of the X-Men. Once they were here, he would have the chance to break them, bend them to his will. If he could get the mutants to use their powers to aid his country he would be giving his nation the best line of defence ever. His country would be safe from invasions and, best of all, the threat of the rebels and splinter groups who fought against the slavery of the lesser beings known as mutants would be over.

Browsing through the X-Men’s files, he was again struck by the efficiency of the American government. Everything was in here…everything save the X-Men’s relationship to each other, where their base was as well as the identity of a few of the mutants; those X-men who wore masks when in public. The unmasked mutants had easily been identified. Those other questions had answers he could find himself. The captain was a career soldier; he knew how to get answers. Around fifty-five years old, the captain was a fair skinned man with a firm body, piecing blue eyes and short brown hair with beginning silver. His body had some scars as evidence of his years in battle and his uniform had many decorations and medals on it. Despite this, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to gather so much information on the mutants on his own. The American intelligence service had far more resources at its disposal than he had and was also much more efficient.

It was his luck that the American government were still debating whether mutants should be considered second-class citizens or not. The European Union had the same debate but mutants with powers of the magnitude the X-men possessed had yet to be seen in Europe so what their parliament would finally decide was unimportant. And while America debated, the alphabet soup over there had apparently decided that the X-Men were too much of a threat to let run free while the politicians made up their minds. As long as they took the X-Men off their hands, the captain’s team would be given free passage over the American border as well as intelligence about the whereabouts of the mutants, a large sum of money that his own government needed to fight back the rebels who opposed the government’s segregation policy on mutants and finally, they had also promised his country some weapons that would help capture the mutants. Really, as far as the captain could see, they had the best end of the deal. He was sure that the American military was furious that it had to give the mutants up but as long as there officially weren’t any laws that allowed them to take action against the mutants simply for being born the way they were, it would be too dangerous for them to keep the mutants in America. However, given the passionate, often religious, arguments the politicians who were for a segregation policy between humans and mutants had, and given how the issue was talked about in the American media, and often the world media in general, with words of fear and hate towards those different from themselves, the captain had confidence that it wouldn’t take many years before the American government would find, like his own had, that mutants were a danger and should be considered slaves. For the safety of the normal human population of course. The defenders of mutant rights, running a campaign about equal rights for all, would not be able to win over concerns that mattered to national security; he was sure if it. As it was, America was one of the few mutant rich nations which, as of yet, hadn’t passed strict anti-mutant laws.

The captain smiled satisfied as he called Michael to his office to help him organise the capture of the mutant terrorist group known as the X-Men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it please let me know by leaving a comment or kudos. It will mean a lot to me.


	2. Capture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the X-men get captured

##  Chapter 2: Capture

The day had started out like any other relaxed Saturday. Jean and Xavier had gone to a small meeting in town, trying, again, to explain how mutants were simply born different from others and were not a threat to ‘normal’ humans. Spotting a chance to get a ride to the mall when Jean and Xavier drove back home, some of the students had wanted to attend the meeting as well.

Jubilee, Kitty, Peter and Rogue who had attended had all reacted differently to the accusations thrown against them. During the debate the non-mutants would say how being a mutant was not natural and that it was wrong, sinful, and a punishment from God. Jubilee had called them racist assholes who had obviously been born in the wrong country and century for they clearly belonged in old Nazi-Germany. Rogue had become mute and quiet, silently wondering if they were right and feverishly wishing Logan had gone with her. Kitty had started a very intelligent line of reasoning, drawing analogies to the way people had thought coloured were second-class citizens and of course to the way the Nazis had seen Jews, coloured, gays, Gypsies…Yes, anyone who was just the slightest bit different from the average Aryan as a threat. Being Jewish she knew a lot about the persecution of her people and as both Jewish and a mutant to some she already had two strikes against her. But, as she had tried to explain, diversity was nothing to fear. People always feared the unknown but with knowledge and enlightenment this could change. However, her arguments fell on deaf ears. People wouldn’t listen to reason, especially not from a 16-year-old girl who had just told grown men that they were letting fear control their actions. Saddened by her inability to reach the humans, she had found comfort in Peter’s embrace.

Peter was an 18-year-old man who also attended Xavier’s school and who had dated Kitty for two years now, and he was fiercely protective of his younger girlfriend. Seeing how sad the humans’ stupidity had made her, he sent them cold looks over her head. He was always a very silent and calm man, rarely betraying his emotions unless it had to do with Kitty. His few words had shook the room when he had simply said that his family had fled the Soviet Union to escape discrimination and hate, and that he was sad to see that the USA obviously wasn’t the land of freedom and tolerance that his family had thought it would be. The X-men’s plea for tolerance hadn’t been helped by a nearby anti-gay demonstration, and the protesters only saw gays as a very small improvement over mutants and who used exactly the same arguments against this minority group as the arguments used against mutants. Seeing the gay rights groups protesting the anti-gay match Jubilee had teasingly suggested that Xavier joined forces with the gay rights groups as well as any other minority group since they seemed to fight for the same basic human rights and was met with exactly the same racist arguments. Xavier had smiled and said that it might not be that bad of an idea. He had several gay mutants in the school and knew how much hate they had to fight; not only did they have to fight the anti-mutant discrimination but also the anti-gay one as well. It was hard enough to be labeled a mutant but to be labeled a mutant and belonging to another minority group as well wasn’t easy. He knew that, among others Kitty, who was Jewish as well as a mutant, and Ororo who was a black, female mutant who belonged to a native religion that, sadly, many would call a heathen religion and not understand or respect, would know all about the kind of pain that ignorance created. Yes, Jubilee’s idea might not be so bad after all: to have all the discriminated and outcast groups stand together and create a stronger front against bigotry and intolerance. Xavier liked that idea and wanted to work more on it when he came back to the mansion.

Jean had driven to the mall and Xavier and she had decided to go inside to pick up a few things. Jean had just gotten the professor into his chair and he had been about to tell his students when he expected them back at the school when both telepaths felt danger nearby. Before either could do anything Xavier had been shot with a tranquilizer gun. Acting quickly, Jean had gathered the students around her and they had hid behind the cars in the parking lot. It hadn’t taken long for them to see military men whose uniforms they didn’t recognize were surrounding them. Jean had counted at least a hundred men closing in on them. She had reached out with her mind and had called Scott for help. Without warning, a sniper she had overlooked in the turmoil of enemy thoughts got a lock on her and hit her with a tranquilizer dart, sending her spinning towards unconsciousness. Her last action was to send a mental yell out to anyone able to receive her.

When Scott had arrived at the scene ten minutes later in the blackbird with Bobby, Logan, Ororo, John and Remy, the only people left conscious were Peter and Kitty. Having heard his wife’s pained cry for help and then nothingness, he had feared the worst. He had quickly gathered the nearest X-Men who were trained enough to help in battle and had started up the Blackbird. They hadn’t even had time to change into uniforms but he had grabbed his visor and put it on instead of his glasses.

Scott frantically searched for a sign of Jean as soon as he stuck his head out of the Blackbird, the others following close behind. He turned to Peter who had transformed into his steel body and stood infront of a crying and almost hysterical Kitty so any hits made towards them were simply repelled by his body. A ring of soldiers was pressing in on the two young mutants and shots were fired towards them from snipers on nearby rooftops and from the soldiers around them.

Scott began to shoot towards their attackers as he tried to get an idea of how they were holding up.

“Kitty, are you alright?” Scott yelled to her as he laid down covering fire for Peter and her, fearing she might be injured given her state of shock.

“Rogue…She…I think she’s dead,” Kitty got out, crying and shaking, kneeling on the ground besides her unconscious friend, phasing her by laying a hand on her shoulder, Peter standing as a shield infront of both. “They are all…They all fell,” she stiffened.

The young girl was obviously in a state of shock but Scott had no time for sympathy. His attention turned to Peter.

“Where’s Jean?” he yelled, having to fight to keep his worry at bay. That he couldn’t feel her in his mind anymore troubled him deeply but he fought to convince himself that it was because she was unconscious; he wouldn’t accept that she might be dead.

“Jean and Xavier fell first,” Peter yelled to him, moving this and then that way, covering both Kitty and Jubilee who lay unconscious in his arms. “We seem to have a stalemate with Katherine phasing Rogue and me shielding Jubilee,” Peter admitted. He nodded towards where several soldiers stood before an unconscious Jean and Xavier, and Scott instinctively drew a relieved breath; she lived and as long as she lived there was hope. “The soldiers have threatened to kill them if not Katherine and I stop our protection,” Peter ended concerned as he relived how their situation had become this desperate. When both Jean and Xavier had fallen, the students had sought cover among the cars, reluctantly leaving their friends behind. Jubilee and Rogue had fled for cover, playing a dangerous game of hide and seek with the soldiers. Jubilee used her fireworks powers to provide cover as she blew up cars while Rogue used Logan’s lessons to sneak up on the soldiers, close enough to touch them, watching them fall into unconsciousness. She had picked up the fallen man’s gun and, when she had touched yet another soldier, she had given one to Jubilee, fighting against the invading soldiers’ thoughts in her mind. The absorption of their minds gave her an urge to give the soldiers Jubilee as their captive, and she was fighting hard not to give in. The snipers must had figured Rogue was a real danger now that she was armed and, as she fired the weapon with a knowledge she had stolen from the fallen soldiers, they fired towards her. She had fallen into unconsciousness when hit and soon after another dart had hit Jubilee and she had followed suit. The soldiers had pressed nearer to Peter and Kitty’s position, forcing them to give up any plans of trying to reach Xavier and Jean and cover for them; instead they focused on covering Rogue and Jubilee. The soldiers had gathered the unconscious mutants but when Peter had seen the care they took not to harm them, the threat to kill his friends if he didn’t stop his protection of Kitty was ignored for it seemed they wanted them alive. Thus they had come to this stalemate.

“Can you reach the Blackbird?” Scott yelled to them, being forced to stay close to the plane and separated from Peter and Kitty as not to risk being taken down by any of the snipers.

“If the soldiers draw back from their position, Katherine and I can try and reach you and the others can give us cover but right now we are pinned down,” Peter yelled back, nodding towards Ororo and the others who fought to find ways through the network of snipers to reach Jean and Xavier or Peter and Kitty. 

“You did all you could,” Scott said, having read the guilt in Peter’s eyes before he cast a worried look Logan’s way. As soon as Logan was out of the Blackbird he had gone ballistic when he had seen for himself that Rogue, together with Jubilee, Jean and Xavier, had been knocked unconscious and that Rogue was now in danger of being captured together with Kitty and Peter. Jean and Xavier lay next to each other on the ground; cuffs tying their hands and legs together and twenty soldiers guarding them, machine guns pointed towards anyone who tried to get closer. Scott was relieved beyond words to see that Jean was safe but he also knew he couldn’t give in to his desire to simply race towards her to hold her again. He had to plan their attack, lay down a strategy. However, he knew any orders to Logan about doing anything other than try to save Rogue, the young woman, now 20-years-old, who he had come to care for so much, who he loved so deeply, would be ignored. Even on a good day Logan rarely obeyed his orders but he was a good man and a fine soldier. So, though Scott complained about it, he never made much of a big deal out of it for he knew Logan would never do anything that would put the team in danger and protecting the team was Scott’s main goal.

“Logan, see if you can reach Rogue,” Scott ordered, knowing it was the only order he would follow. Before the words had even left his mouth Logan had jumped at the guards, avoiding fire and slashing out at the guards like a wild animal trying to protect its mate.

“Ororo, take flight and take out the snipers on the rooftops,” Scott continued and Ororo nodded and flew up to do as bid. “Bobby, Remy and John, try to cover Peter and Kitty, hold the nearing soldiers as far away from them as possible,” he went on and the young men sprung into action.

Scott focused on trying to reach Jean but he was up against twenty heavily armed guards. They were greatly outnumbered but he hoped their powers would protect them. However, as the fight went on, Scott got a grim suspicion that not only was their opponents stronger in numbers but they knew exactly what they were doing. Taking out the telepaths first had been a clever move and as he watched he saw that someone had fired a net around Ororo, capturing her inside the small ball. Her claustrophobia resurfaced full force and she fought in a panic to free herself. Scott tried to get a clear shot so he could shoot the net but it was too tightly wrapped around Ororo’s body. She began to fall to the ground. Distracted by Ororo’s screams of terror, Remy had looked at her in concern and had lost his focus, making a tranquilizer shot get past his defence and the young thief fell unconscious to the ground. Several shots were fired towards the falling Ororo, and Scott fought to hit them all with his beam but at least one hit his friend. When he finally managed to catch Ororo in his embrace, she was unconscious. With a quick kiss to his friend’s forehead, Scott had been forced to abandon his fallen friend. If they were to win no more could fall.

Time had lost its meaning as the battle raged on. Scott knew deep inside that they had lost but he wouldn’t give up, he couldn’t. They had captured Jean, the only woman he had ever loved, and Scott swore he would either get her back or go with her. The latter proved to be the final outcome as John and Bobby fell as well. Then, when Peter had to turn back to human form for just a split second to gather strength before he could return to his steel body, he was hit as well. He went down hard, his shoulder giving a loud protest as it hit the hard ground, his body still weak after having used so much energy to appear in his steel body. Yelling her love’s name, Kitty had fallen to her knees beside her protector, tears staining her face, her concentration lost and she phased back to her solid state.

“Kitty! Look out!” Scott yelled in warning as he saw a shot coming her way.

“Kitten!” Logan yelled the nickname he had given her in warning as well but too late; Kitty was down as well since neither man had time to intercept the shot that had been aimed at her.

Scott’s strategic mind had kept him in the game this long but time was running short. Even as his beams hit human after human, trying not to use too much force to kill them, he knew time was working against them. The soldiers either grew tired of playing hide and seek or they were on a timetable for their threats to harm the unconscious mutants if they didn’t surrender got more and more passionate and frequent. Remembering Peter’s words, Scott had ignored them and Logan hadn’t even seemed to register them, having gone almost feral in his fight to see Rogue safe.

“Watch this, mutant leader!” One of the soldiers yelled, gaining Scott’s attention. He looked towards the soldiers guarding the captured X-men and to his shock he saw that two of the soldiers had hauled an unconscious Jubilee to her feet and a third delivered a hard and well-placed kick to her leg, the sickening sound of broken bones telling him that her leg was broken.

“Need one more to convince you we mean business?” The soldier asked dangerously and with a wave of his hand the same two men who had held Jubilee let the young girl drop ungracefully to the ground and now took a hold of John.

Shaking the shock off him, Scott turned to Logan’s general direction, knowing he couldn’t keep on playing this game. The soldiers might need them alive but apparently injured, maybe permanently handicapped, was not an issue for them. They had no choice. “We need to surrender!” he yelled, slowly stepping forward towards the soldiers with his hands above his head.

The soldier who had broken Jubilee’s leg gave Scott a cold look filled with hate and contempt.

“You can just as well learn the price of disobedience from the start,” he said darkly.

Without giving Scott time to react, he took John’s arm and twisted it, breaking bones neatly and cleanly.

“Bastard!” Scott yelled enraged and instinctively his hand went to his glasses but when the soldier grabbed Jean by the hair he froze in fear. The soldier used this distraction to get the upper hand on him and suddenly a sharp pain had hit him in his right side, knocking his breath away and he had fallen to his feet, the soldier standing with a still raised gun in his hand.

“Oh, how the mighty fall,” the soldier taunted as he had stood before him, his cold gaze meeting Scott’s pain-filled one as Scott had one hand pressed against his wound, feeling warm blood running down his hands. He knew it wasn’t too serious; Peter had been right, they did want them alive, but he could feel the bullet was still there, bruising flesh but luckily not any organs. With the same look a cold man spares a dog he’s about to put down, the soldier drew a dart gun and changed hands with the real gun before he shot a tranquilizer dart in Scott’s chest. With a wordless yell Scott fell into unconsciousness, his last thought being that he had failed to protect his team…failed to protect his love.

Logan had heard Scott’s order to surrender but when he had seen what the soldiers had done, he had kept fighting for all he was worth, taking down many soldiers. He was shot several times with both real bullets and darts but his healing abilities kept him going. However, in the end it was too much for even his system to handle so much pain and he finally went down, falling like a wounded animal. Having fought to reach Rogue the entire time, his hand managed to brush past hers before he lost his final hold on consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it please let me know by leaving a comment or kudos. It will mean a lot to me.


	3. The Search Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for the missing X-men begins

##  Chapter 3: The Search Begins

“Betsy, love, hand me that file over there,” Warren Worthington III, 25-year-old multi-millionaire and owner of his own global company, asked of his wife, his attention on the paper in front of him.

The young man with blond hair and blue eyes was the poster boy for Aryan beauty and his mutation that had given him wings and the very fitting nickname of Angel only made him all the more handsome. However, growing up rich, his heart hadn’t fitted his warm looks. He had been easily bored and hadn’t cared for anyone’s pain. In fact, he had sometimes hurt others to try to keep himself amused. All that had changed when Warren had met Xavier and had been dragged into his fight for justice, equality and freedom. Suddenly he had realized that the only reason why he was accepted among humans was because he was rich and because his mutation had a familiarity to an image the general public liked. Since then, he had become friends with many of the mutants at Xavier’s and had used his wealth to fight for justice, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by Betsy.

Elizabeth, as her full name was, had been a hired assassin sent to shut the loud mouthed millionaire up as the opposition feared his money could help the mutant cause just a bit too much. Against all odds, things had worked out very differently. The same age as Warren, Betsy was a beautiful Chinese woman with long black hair and a black tattoo down her face, which only made her appear even more beautiful but in a decidedly deadly way. And she was as deadly as she was beautiful. Like Warren, she came from old money but her disregard for life and need for excitement had given her a double identity as one of the best snipers ever. When she had accepted her mission she hadn’t know that her target was a mutant or that when they had stood face to face, her gun aimed at him, he would be so calm and brave about it, simply asking her not to kill anyone but him on her way to escape. His courage and strength had taken her by surprise and, for the first time ever, she hadn’t completed an assignment. One thing had led to another and they had married two years after meeting. The union was perfect. There had been other hits made on Warren but Betsy had cleverly saved her husband. They had both found love for the first time ever, both found a place to call home. If push came to shove they would always stay loyal to each other and no one else. Betsy, being a telepath, had ensured they shared a mental connection or bond, which allowed them to share any feelings. Thus they knew with absolute certainty the depth of each other’s love and the trust they had in each other. Some foul tounges looked down at Warren for having his wife protect him, but he didn’t mind. Betsy was the best for the job and he trusted her completely. There was no kind of rivalry or fight over roles with them. They each had their strengths and they kept to them. He worked with his firm and for mutants’ rights; she was always beside him, his protector and guardian as well as his eternal support and pillar of strength. To say they had found what they had always been looking for was a given.

“Sure,” Betsy handed her husband the file she in her mind knew he wanted without him having to voice it before she again did a sweep of his large office.

His room was on the 28th floor of his office building in town but it was a very open room, filled with large windows. Sitting behind his desk Warren would be an easy target for a sniper but he had refused to move, refusing to be bullied into changing his habits because of the threat of a hit. Thus Betsy periodically did sweeps using her skills as an assassin, thinking of how she would have made the hit, and with her mental abilities to see if there were any hostiles nearby. She had just told herself everything was calm and was about to sit on Warren’s desk, trying to distract him from the paper he was writing, when a mental cry hit her so hard she winced in pain and her knees gave way under her, making her fall to the floor.

“Betsy!” Warren’s supporting arms were around her quickly soon after his terrified scream. Betsy shook her head as if to clear it. She looked up into her husband’s worried eyes.

“It was Jean. She called from downtown somewhere; there was too much fear and hurt in her yell for me to get a more precise location. All I got was this agonizing yell for help and then…nothing.” Betsy’s voice was grim.

She could read in Warren’s mind that they both feared the worst; that she was dead. Not to mention that if she had been attacked then what about the school? And was this an attack on the X-Men or mutants in general? Were they themselves in danger?

“Something is very wrong,” Betsy added gravely and Warren nodded, helping her to her feet and over to the desk. With ease the buff man lifted his wife up to sit on his desk while he reached for the intercom system and pushed the button that connected him to his secretary.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Worthington?” Eliza Peterson, his private secretary, asked him as soon as he had opened a line to her.

“Double security around the building and get someone to find out what just happened downtown,” Warren ordered sharply, not waiting for confirmation he added, “And call Xavier’s school for me. Right now!”

* * *

The entire school had been on edge since Scott had left with Logan, Ororo, Bobby, John and Remy. Something was going on, they could all feel it. Alex Summers, Scott’s younger brother who had joined the school six months earlier, had a very bad feeling about all of this. Alex hadn’t even known he had had a brother until six months ago. He had grown up with a wonderful foster family on Hawaii and only had a few glimpses of memory from when he was three years old. He had thought he had recalled an older boy hold him and care for him but the memories weren’t very clear. On his 23th birthday his foster parents had told him they had adopted him, and that he had had an older brother they hadn’t adopted because he had apparently suffered some brain damage from the plane crash that had killed his parents, and from which the two boys had only barely made it out of alive. When his mutation, an ability to shoot plasma blasts from his hands, had manifested itself four months later, he had come to Xavier’s school and had finally met his lost brother. Alex had quickly seen that he had gotten the best deal of the two of them.

After Scott had been released from the hospital, no one had wanted him after reading the words ‘brain damage’ on his chart even though the doctors had assured there wouldn’t be any effects from it. The damage was to an area of the brain no one used. Nevertheless, Scott grew up in an orphanage until he was put in foster care with a foster dad named Jack. Scott had told his tale to Alex at a time when Xavier had been present, as if to seek his support when talking about it and from the look on Xavier’s face when Scott had told him about his foster dad, Alex had known that he had been bad news. Scott had simply said that Jack would never win the prize as the world’s best dad while Xavier had added that the man had been a cruel bastard who should never had been allowed to take custody of Scott. It had been the first and only time Alex had ever heard Xavier curse and for the professor to do so only made Alex all the more convinced that Jack had been abusive to Scott. Xavier had confirmed this when he had told him Jack had tried to force Scott into using his abilities to commit crimes for him. When Xavier had found them, Jack had ordered Scott to kill the Professor and when Scott refused Jack had tried to do it himself. To save Xavier, Scott, then 16 years old, had killed a man and had promised himself he would never kill again. Xavier had, thanks to his money, managed to get custody over Scott even though he was a single parent and Scott had become his first X-man.

Even after six months Alex hadn’t managed to get to know Scott very well. Scott controlled his emotions as well as he did his eyes with the aid of his glasses, as if he was afraid his emotions would be used against him. Alex had wondered if maybe Jack had done so. Alex had also learnt that Scott’s brain damage had made it so that he couldn’t control his mutation. Simply put, his beams were always ‘on’, colouring his vision in shades of red. Despite the lack of real closeness, they hadn’t even hugged, both unsure of how to behave, Alex was determined to see his brother safe.

When the phone rang and he picked it up to hear Warren’s voice, he knew that something very bad had happened. Strengthening his back as he held the receiver to his ear, Alex vowed to stay strong and never stop searching until he had his brother back. He hadn’t been trained for battle before he joined the school and hadn’t been ready yet to meet a real enemy but he vowed he would be ready this time. He would get his brother back. One way or another, no matter how many strings he would have to pull, how make favours of the professor’s he had to call in, he would get his people back. It was the first time he had thought like that; ‘his’ people, but in his heart he knew no truer words had ever been spoken.

As he heard the news of Jean’s mental scream from Warren and that his sources had told him of a battle downtown near the mall they always used to visit, Lorna, Alex’s girlfriend, came to him and silently intertwined her fingers with his, giving him the silent support he needed to stay strong and not break down. He couldn’t afford to think that his brother or the others were dead. It wasn’t an option. Until he saw a body they were alive and one way or another he would get them back!


	4. Waking up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-men wake up and discover they are prisoners.

## Chapter 4: Waking Up

Somewhere in the back of his mind Scott had a feeling someone was calling for him, but he didn’t want to return to reality. It was safe here, inside his mind. Out there only pain and hurt could be found.

“Wake up, One-Eye.”

The harsh voice left no room for argument and the demand in it forced Scott closer to awareness as a hand slapped him hard on the cheek so his head flew to the side. The pain shook him the rest of the way back to consciousness and he moaned, blinked…and saw Logan’s worried face before him…in colours. Colours? He hadn’t seen the world in colours since his mutation had broken out when he had been thirteen. Quickly he closed his eyes again, afraid his beams might fire and injure Logan, his heart racing in fear like he had just completed a marathon. The adrenaline made the pain in his right side make itself known but the fear he felt that he might hurt Logan made him push that sensation to the back of his mind. His memories were a bit confused and he wasn’t sure what was going on.

“It’s alright, Slim. These collars prevents us from using our powers,” Logan’s voice said and Scott felt Logan touch something around his neck to amplify his point.

Scott carefully opened his eyes again, turning his head away from the source of Logan’s voice so as not to hurt him should he be mistaken. His eyes found a bare wall and when the wall didn’t explode in seconds, Scott drew a relieved breath. Logan had been right. Wait a minute…Collars? His thoughts were confused. What collars? He put a hesitant hand up to his neck and felt that indeed there was a metallic collar around it; a strange lock in the front betraying it could be removed somehow.

“Where are we?” Scott asked weakly as he fought to sit up with Logan helping him with a gentleness that didn’t fit with how much on each other’s case they usually were. Yet, after Scott and Jean had married and Logan and Rogue had moved into a room together, the two men had become… not really friends, they were way too different to become close fiends, but good comrades, respecting each other and counting on each other in a tight spot. However, verbal banter was still a large part of their relationship, only now they both knew it was for fun and not to try and take something precious from each other, like each other’s lovers.

“A cell of some kind. Not sure where but I woke up during transport. We were shipped by sea so I don’t think we’re in the U.S. anymore. I could smell the seawater,” Logan explained, still kneeling beside Scott to be sure he wouldn’t drift back into unconsciousness.

Logan's healing factor had made the bullet wounds he had received heal fast and it had fought the tranquilizer, making him wake up in a small cage, shackles on his legs and arms. Before he could pop his claws to cut the metal cage a nearby soldier had seen he was awake and had shot him with a new tranquilizer dart. He had heard someone, a doctor perhaps, say his dose should be increased. He had whispered a fevered ‘Marie’ as he had been forced under, afraid that she was hurt and he hadn’t been able to see her to prove otherwise. Next time he had awakened had been in the cell with a collar around his neck. After checking on Marie, he had tried to test their escape options before he had awakened Scott.

Scott felt braver now that his eyes hadn’t knocked the wall over, something he still feared, even if it would already have happened if it were indeed to happen. Scott looked around and saw that they were in a big room made up of smooth, naked metal walls created out of several large squares put together. In one end of the cell was a visible pale white see-through force shield separating their room from a hallway, which had the same dead design as their cell. In the distance Scott could hear screams of pain and laughter and the sounds sickened him. His eyes quickly found Jean and saw she was unhurt and he sighed in relief. He then looked for Ororo, Rogue, Kitty, Peter, Remy, Jubilee, Bobby, John and Xavier who were all in the room, lying on the floor or against walls except Rogue, who lay on the only bed in the room. They were all still out of it but he could see no blood on them and thus again relief flowed through him. He knew it was a cruel thought but he was happy that the screams of pain came from someone else and not his friends. Only after looking more carefully he noticed a small door in one of the walls, leading to another room. The door had been nicely camouflaged in the same smooth metal plates as the walls and only a silver handle betrayed it was indeed a door. Scott looked hopefully at Logan.

“The bathroom,” Logan said as he followed the other man’s gaze, shattering his hope for an escape through there.

Scott got to his feet and found Jean, her eyes closed, bruises and cuts covering her body from their battle and/or the transport to wherever they were now. She was lying on the floor, her back up against the back wall. Scott kneeled next to her and felt her pulse, needing to assure himself that she was all right even if he couldn’t see any blood on her. Her pulse was strong and steady and he sighed in relief. Assured that she was unhurt, Scott allowed himself to get lost for a few seconds in the wonder that it was to see his beloved in colours for the first time. She really had red hair; it hadn’t just been his glasses. She had told him about how she looked, what colours she had but all he had ever seen were shades of red. She looked truly stunning; red hair, pale white skin…He couldn’t wait to see her open her eyes so he could see them shine green as opals like she had told him they would. He already missed their telepathic link. He had quickly got used to having her gentle and warm presence in his mind, sharing all his thoughts, his entire being, with his wife and now, without it, he felt empty and alone. He forcefully focused his thoughts back to the problem at hand: finding a way out. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead and gently stroked her hair out of her closed eyes before he went over to the force shield, examining it.

“No use. I’ve tried,” Logan said and showed Scott his bloody hands.

Not sure how but assuming it was because of the collar that he couldn’t remove, it had hurt like hell when he tried to pop his claws. Normally, his mutant healing factor would lessen the pain to a bearable level but the collars appeared to be blocking out their powers. Logan knew from all of Jean’s lectures to him about his health that only his mutant healing factor prevented him from slowly weakening and dying from blood poisoning from the huge amount of metal in his body. It was also his healing factor that would grant him an abnormal long life span. Now, without his healing factor he would have to adjust to the fact that he was no longer invincible but more importantly; he would have to live with the fact that his own body would slowly become his deadliest enemy if not either some doctor here cleansed his blood or they found a way out soon. He wasn’t sure what kind of timeframe he had; he would have to ask Jean but he was guessing around a year before things became critical but before that he would weaken and he would feel pain coming from every metal enforced bone in his body. Logan had forced those dark thoughts away; there was nothing he could do about it now anyway. More determined than ever to find a way out he had fought the agony that had tried to send him back into unconsciousness and had used his claws on the force shield. It had thrown him clear across the room and that pain, combined with the sheer soul twisting pain that having his claws out was giving him, had made him fall back into unconsciousness. He had awoken a little later and, after countless other tries to the force field, this time without the claws so he could stay conscious, he had given up and had gone to try and wake Scott up, thinking the younger man’s strategic mind might come up with an idea as Scott had been known to get them out of a tight spot in the past.

The younger man flinched as he saw Logan’s damaged hands, knowing they must hurt a lot but he still backed away a little from the shield, only to throw himself against it, having to test its strength for himself before he would admit defeat. He was thrown back and hit the back wall, falling down on the floor next to Jean with a force that took his breath away and drew a pained gasp from his lips.

“Told you,” Logan said simply while he again checked on Rogue who he had put on the only bed in the room. As Logan had been the first to wake, he hadn’t had to fight to do so.

Rogue was still out of it and a part of him was glad. He had heard Peter say that during the battle she had been forced to absorb a lot of the soldiers, from a to them still unknown agency or country, to defend herself and her team mates. In the past Logan had done everything in his power to prevent this, but this time he had been too late and they had been too outnumbered for him to protect her. He hoped the people whose minds she had stolen hadn’t permanently damaged her mind. Hopefully, the collars, which prevented them from using their mutant powers, would also prevent the other people’s minds from invading hers.

“Yeah,” Scott simply acknowledged Logan’s statement as he painfully got up again.

With a meaningful glance at Jean who looked so helpless and defenceless lying on the floor, he pushed his pain to the back of his mind. As Logan eyed him closely, Scott threw himself at the force shield again, apparently having calculated that spot in the field to be the weakest. He seemed like a man possessed, needing to get out. Logan understood that. He shared many traits with his namesakes, the Wolverines, and hated being locked up more than anything and his past with government agencies who had kidnapped and tortured him didn’t make it any better. But he had been beating on that damn force shield with the same useless results so many times he had lost count. He had been forced to admit that he couldn’t break it down and when he with his surgically strengthened skeleton couldn’t break through, Scott had no chance. Without a word he went to Scott and threw himself at the force shield with him. Scott nodded gratefully at him but neither of them spoke.

Finally, after several more useless attempts at the force shield Scott’s hands had gotten as bloody as Logan’s. Scott’s eyes had become glassy and far away, his breathing hard and pained and Logan grew concerned. Scott seemed like he had gone way beyond his endurance. He laid a hand on the other man’s shoulder, preventing him from trying again.

“We can’t get through.” Logan spoke the words with surprising gentleness.

“I won’t accept that! We just have to try harder,” Scott said harshly, his voice shaking a little as did his hands but he still shook Logan’s hand off him and got ready to throw himself at the force field for what seemed like the 1000th time.

“Look, One-Eye. I’m not kidding you. We can’t get through. What makes you this stubborn now, anyway? You’re the one who told me to surrender in the first place,” Logan growled and grabbed Scott’s torn shirt and drew him closer, fury and murder in his eyes.

He was back to being trapped and caged like an animal. Like he had been before…when doctors had experimented on him, stolen his identity and his humanity. Somewhere deep inside he knew he had lost even without Scott’s order which he hadn’t followed but damn it; he needed someone to blame. Anyone to take the heat of his rage and right now Scott was the only one.

“Do you think I wanted to? We had no choice. We were horribly outnumbered,” Scott almost yelled. Logan could hear the pain and doubt in his words but he was too angry to care. His own yelling made flashes of memory return to Scott…Something horrible about Jubilee…and John. Why did those memories escape him when he had everything else down? Everything save how he himself had been captured? How had he been captured and why did his side suddenly feel like it was on fire?

“You brought us here. Brought Rogue in danger,” Logan yelled furiously and hit him in the face, watching Scott’s head fly to the side, his cheek still red from when Logan had tried to wake him up earlier.

Without thinking Logan hit him again and blood ran from Scott’s nose as he heard bone break. Scott made a swing at him, his bloody fist colliding with Logan’s face as Scott’s self defence training kicked in over the shock and pain. Logan hit Scott again, this time sending the other man to the ground. The pain of falling to the hard floor made a trail of fire run through Scott’s body and intensified itself in his right side with such agony that he had to fight to stay conscious. He put a hand to his side and a moan of pain escaped his lips. Logan’s anger disappeared at once and he got concerned again. He hadn’t meant to damage Scott like that. If nothing else Jean would kill him and if he had to be honest, the kid kinda grew on him…not that he would ever admit as much of course.

“You alright?” Logan asked softly as he kneeled beside him, searching Scott’s body for injuries. He smelled blood…Scott’s blood and Logan’s eyes darkened with worry.

“Yeah,” Scott whispered hoarsely, his face pale and sweaty. He looked so weak and sick that not even a blind man would have believed his statement.

With a determined look, Logan took hold of Scott’s right hand, which covered his side, and forcefully removed it. It came away sticky with blood from an angry looking wound that luckily looked like it had been roughly tended to so Scott wouldn’t bleed to death. However, his eyes narrowed when he felt along Scott’s back, not finding an exit wound; the bullet had to still be in the wound. The wound wasn’t very deep and Logan could see it hadn’t shattered any organs but it must hurt like hell.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you had been injured?” Logan complained, his anger covering his concern as he took his shirt off, tearing it to strips to make a bandage for Scott.

“I’m…fine,” Scott rasped but still let Logan look at the wound. He would like to have it cleaned to prevent infection but the best he could do was use some water from the bathroom sink.

“You do know I’ll have to remove the bullet, right?” Logan asked softly, knowing that doing so would hurt like hell, as he eyed the injury to assure himself that it indeed wasn’t fatal. However, if it got infected or if Scott lost too much blood things could get ugly.

“Yes,” Scott answered as he closed his eyes tightly shut against the pain.

Logan searched in his memories of the battle to when Scott could have been shot. It hadn’t seemed logical that Scott should get shot when his powers allowed him to shoot from a safe distance. Then he remembered. Remembered Jubilee and John’s injuries and how the unconscious mutants had been used against him…More precisely how the threat to Jean had made the younger man leave himself open for attack.

“You took this bullet for Jean, didn’t you?” Logan murmured, talking more to try and keep Scott focused on something else beside the pain than anything else. Suddenly Scott remembered the threat to Jean and how he had been shot. Now all he had to figure out was where John and Jubilee fit into all of that.

“Yeah,” Scott got out before gritting his teeth tightly together to keep from screaming. The pain from being slammed into the back wall repeatedly by the force shield didn’t help ease his agony at all.

“Are you two all right?” A voice asked gently as Ororo knelt next to Logan and saw Scott’s wound.

“Finally awake, hey?” Logan asked as he moved aside to let Ororo have a better look.

“We’ll have to remove the bullet,” Ororo stated, mirroring Logan’s words as she looked at the wound more intensely.

“Ororo...You…ok?” Scott asked weakly as his strength left him. Now that the adrenaline and fear had passed, he was totally exhausted.

”No permanent damage,” Ororo answered simply.

The sight of her triggered Scott’s memories and the final pieces of the puzzle came together. “Jubilee and John. They’re hurt. You must help them,” Scott got out, fear for their health as well as guilt that he had been the reason for their injures written on his face.

“I saw them get injured. It’s nothing fatal and nothing we can do much about in here. We should check the others first before we go to them,” Logan said when he saw the worry in Ororo’s eyes.

“We will look at them as soon as we have tended to you,” Ororo promised Scott as she noticed his concern. She saw something near one of the sidewalls next to an unconscious Remy. Checking her friend and finding he had a strong and steady pulse and no obvious injures she sighed in relief and picked up his scarf, a thick one he had used to keep the cold at bay. The scarf had fallen off him when he had been put into the cell and it had caught her attention. She knelt next to Scott and put it in front of his mouth.

“Bite on this so as not to bite off your tongue,” she explained when she saw the puzzlement in his pain-filled eyes. She wasn’t a medic but she had heard that this was possible and it was definitely something to avoid.

Scott nodded in understanding and opened his mouth to bite into the garment, desperately trying to hold the fear away. He had felt pain before but always hated this waiting.

“This won’t help much,” Logan said as he gestured to the scarf.

“It’s better than nothing,” Ororo argued and Logan had to agree with that. “Hold him down,” she commanded and Logan nodded and pushed Scott’s hands to the ground. Ororo let a finger run over Scott’s wound and then looked Scott in the eyes, which she could now see. They were actually quite beautiful, a rich blue colour like a summer day. Under other circumstances she would have been very happy for him that he could finally see properly but she didn’t have time for that and neither did he. Scott nodded to her and braced himself. Ororo let her right hand disappear into his side, searching for the bullet and Scott stiffened and choked a scream as Ororo searched inside him. She tried to be gentle but it wasn’t easy. Finally her fingers brushed something she could identify as the bullet and dragged it out while Scott bit into the scarf, his screams muffled by it.

“Got it!” Ororo proclaimed triumphantly as she held up the small bullet for both men to see before putting it on the cold metal floor. “He needs stitches.”

“Unless you always carry your needle work with you I can’t see how that can be done, mon ami,” a new voice said. Remy was now awake, his red on black eyes still dazed from the drugs he had been given. Groggily he sat with the wall as support and eyed the crude first aid going on beside him.

“This will have to do,” Logan said and let go of Scott.

Ororo stroked the hair away from Scott’s sweat covered brow and tried to remove the scarf in his mouth but Scott had bitten into it so hard that she had to use all her strength to get it free.

“Are you all right, Scott?” she asked worriedly as he lay very still for a while, his eyes closed.

“He passed out,” Logan replied for him as he checked the younger man’s pulse. 

“Have you checked the others for injuries?” Ororo asked as she stood again, her compose as regal as ever but her eyes now held a haunted look that would probably never leave.

“I was a …bit preoccupied when I awoke so no,” Logan admitted.

“The Cajun goes check,” Remy said as he went over to his team mates. He first went to Rogue, taking her pulse through her glove. Something in his eyes disturbed Logan and he walked over and took Rogue’s hand into his and away from Remy.

“Marie is fine. I checked her as soon as I woke up,” Logan growled. After waking it had been the first thing he had done before placing her on the only bed in the cell to make sure she was as comfortable as possible.

“Over here. Peter seems to have broken his arm,” Ororo called as she sat next to the young Russian. Even unconscious he hadn’t let go of Kitty’s right hand with his left one. His body lay as a shield in front of her as he had always stood in front of her during all the time they had known each other, always protecting her. Ororo knew that Peter’s mutant power of turning his body into steel often made him stand as a shield in front of his lover as he had during the battle where they had been captured.

Logan reluctantly let go of Rogue’s hand but placed it gently over her chest. He shot Remy a warning look.

“Check the others,” he growled and went to Ororo. He knelt by Peter’s side and checked his arm.

“It isn’t broken, just dislocated,” Logan said as he moved Peter’s arm up and down.

“Well, what do I know? I am not the doctor around here,” Ororo shot back, the fear of what was to happen next giving them all a short fuse.

“Okay, okay. Hold him down in case he wakes up while I put this back in place.”

Logan took a good hold of Peter’s dislocated arm and Ororo turned the unconscious student on the side, holding him down. Logan looked to Ororo, a question in his eyes.

“Go,” she said and held him down. _Please don’t let him wake_ , she prayed to any God or Goddess who would listen. Logan took a good grip on Peter’s arm and with a crack it fell into place.

“Auuuuuuuu!” Peter screamed and tried to sit up but Ororo managed to hold him down until Logan drew back. When she let him up, he looked around and rubbed his now relocated arm and mumbled a steady stream of Russian curses. He turned to Kitty and stroked some hair out from her eyes and checked her for injuries. Satisfied that she was all right for now, he turned back to his team-mates.

“Thanks, tovarisch _[Russian for friend]_ ,” Peter said softly and eyed their surroundings with a worried frown.

“Well, this could be worse,” Bobby said softly as he rubbed his neck and sat up, looking around at the cell and his friends. Ororo smiled a little at Bobby’s positive attitude which, as always, clashed with Logan’s dark view on life in general, learned from painful life lessons. 

“I don’t see how,” Logan growled darkly.


	5. Escape Attempts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-men try and see if they can escape

## Chapter 5: Escape Attempts

“Oh,” Scott uttered as he opened his eyes to the best sight ever; Jean’s warm and smiling face. He had his head cradled in her lap and, except for a dull pain in his side that made him take a hand to his now bandaged wound, life was good.

“About time you decided to join the living, love,” Jean said softly and planted a warm kiss on his lips. She had panicked when she had first awakened and had been unable to sense Scott through their bond until she had found out that the collars had stolen her powers. It was strange and uncomfortable to be unable to sense his presence in her mind; it felt lonesome and empty.

“Jean, are you alright?” Scott asked, concerned and needing confirmation as he gently stroked her cheek. Her green eyes were warm and seemed to shine like jewels. Seeing her now, in colours, it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Am I alright? I’m not the one who was shot,” Jean answered, light amusement in her voice, masking her gratitude at his concern as well as her own worry for his safety and their future. While Scott was unconscious, she had awoken and had started doing the best she could to tend to everyone’s injuries. She had confirmed Logan’s deadline of one year before he would become critically ill by blood poisoning but as the months passed he would grew weaker and his bones would ache as painfully as if they were on fire. A feeling of helplessness had threatened to overtake her when she had had to admit that she had the knowledge to help but not the tools to do so.

“Good to see you back with us,” Xavier said warmly to the young man who was like a son to him. “Now, we need to find out where to go from here,” he continued, worry for his students in his voice as he spoke from his position on the floor next to the back wall. Though his last words held a serious tone, he still smiled warmly at Scott, glad to see he was all right.

“Are you alright, Sir?” Scott asked Xavier with concern as he eyed him up and down to check his body for injuries. He seemed all right so Scott looked around to check on the others. Rogue sat on Logan’s lap, hiding her face in his shoulder but looked fine as well. John sat off to one side, his left arm in a home made sling, Jean’s bare stomach showing that a part of her blouse had been used for the sling. At the sight of the young man’s injury, Scott winced, remembering how he had heard the bones break. Remy sat next to John, looking thoughtful. Peter sat with his left hand holding Kitty’s, her head on his shoulder while he talked words of comfort, half of them in Russian. Jubilee had her right leg in yet another attempt of a splint that sent Scott’s mind spinning towards guilt yet again. Next to her sat Bobby, who rolled his eyes at Jubilee who complained loudly on just about everything. There was a note in her voice that Scott could tell meant she was covering her fear by being pissed off instead, which Scott preferred over having to deal with a hysterical student. Ororo sat next to Xavier and looked as regal and calm as ever.

“I’m fine, Scott, but we need to have a plan,” Xavier said mildly, not wanting to alarm his students. Save Scott, Logan, Jean, Ororo and himself none of the others in the cell where even old enough to drink, let alone deal with something as traumatic as this. Yet here they were. They should not have to face such a grim reality as this and it pained Xavier’s heart that they were. Rogue was the oldest among the students at 20. Then came Peter, John and Remy who were all 18 while Bobby and Jubilee were all 17. Kitty was the youngest at 16. They were so very young. With the grim knowledge given to him by his friend Eric, who had been in a KZ-camp during World War II, Xavier knew that if they didn’t get out soon then no matter their age, his students wouldn’t be young for long. 

“I know,” Scott agreed and fought to get up. With Jean’s help he sat beside her, leaning against the wall but when a wave of pain hit him as he tried to stand he had to give it up and instead put an arm around Jean, pressing her a little closer to him.

“I have a plan. Let’s kill ‘em all,” Logan growled as he continued to stroke Rogue’s hair, his gentleness with his love a sharp contrast to his violent words but Scott knew as well as anyone in the cell that Logan would never harm his love or his allies.

“How are you gonna do that with them out there and us in here?” John wanted to know. His face was white from the pain in his arm though he fought to keep that pain out of his voice as he spoke. Gods, he had never hurt so much in his life. He fought not to think about it, forcing his thoughts on something else…anything else. He grimaced from the strain of not voicing his pain and yelling for someone to please make it stop!

“And we don’t have our powers **and** we’re hopelessly outnumbered,” Jubilee agreed, also fighting to keep her pain away, fighting to think of something other than the flame she felt from her broken bone. Jean had said she had a clean break; people had had broken bones for ages without the aid of hospitals or medicine. If they could make it so could she. At least that was what she kept telling herself, a mantra inside her mind, but all she wanted to do was scream for someone to give her a painkiller.

“Quiet,” Scott demanded, taking charge as he had been taught to do. Silence fell over the group, all eyes on him save Logan who just held Rogue close yet still listened to his words when Scott spoke again. “Our first mission is to try and find a way out of this prison. Our second is to try and remove these collars,” Scott let a hand run over his collar with a look of distaste. “Ororo, Jean, John, the professor and I will try to figure these collars out. The rest of you investigate the cell.” He saw their looks and added more softly, “I know we have all searched for a way out but do so again and again. There has to be a way out of here.”

The others nodded and began to investigate the walls and the force field yet again. The cell was small enough so Jubilee could remain seated as she tried to see if she could spot something of interest.

“Hey, Cyke. You seemed to think this field had a weak point. Where?” Logan asked as he stood by the force field, Rogue to his right. He didn’t even bother to ask how Scott knew. Logan had long ago learned that solving complex mathematical things in his mind was one of Scott’s mutant abilities and even now, without his mutation to aid him, it was a subject Scott was very strong in, unlike Logan. Therefore, if Scott said the field had a weak spot, then it had a weak spot. He trusted that information the same way Scott trusted him if he said he could hear or smell something with his heightened senses that no one else could.

“In front of you, to your left.”

Logan moved in the given direction and pointed to a spot in the shield. “There?”

“Yes,” Scott answered before turning to look at Ororo. “You were a thief before Xavier found you in Africa and after that, a Goddess. If we could find something for you to work with, could you still pick a lock?”

“Once a thief, always a thief,” she said with a smile, making Remy smile warmly at her for he too, felt the same way. “However, I don’t know if I can pick this particular lock,” she took a hand to her collar, “but I will try,” she ended honestly. Scott nodded and tried to think of something they could use. They needed something small, something…

“Kitty, you usually wear hairpins. Do you have one now?”

“Yes,” she answered, slightly confused, and took a hand up to her hair.

“Give it to Ororo,” Scott commanded and Kitty did as bid while Ororo moved closer to Scott to work on his collar.

“No, undo your own, Jean’s or the professor’s. I’m weak and will not do you the most good in a fight, especially without my visor or glasses,” Scott explained as he drew back.

“All right,” Ororo agreed, seeing his logic and turned to the Professor. He was the world’s strongest telepath. Were he the first freed he could easily force someone to free the others and the…house? Prison? Wherever they were would then be theirs for the taking.

“Jean, let me see your collar,” Scott asked and Jean held her long red hair back, having letting it grow to reach her shoulders and blocking her neck for him to see as she leaned against him.

“Do you know what it is?” John asked and he tore at his to no avail.

“It seems to send signals to our brain. It paralyses the area of our brain which controls and emits our mutant powers. We have to get them off in order to use our mutations,” Scott explained as he let a hand run over Jean’s collar, calculating the mathematics behind it in his brain but, without his natural mutant ability in this field to support him, things which used to be so simple for him were difficult and blurry. He also found his thoughts wandering. Thinking of all the wonderful colours he saw, how beautiful Jean looked now as he saw her really for the first time and the pain in his side made it hard to concentrate. “It is fascinating that the collars also suppresses my own powers even though I have brain damage to the part of my brain that emits my mutant powers. Whoever built these really knew what they were doing,” Scott thought out loud. 

“Maybe we could try and tear the toilet apart,” Bobby wondered out loud to Jubilee from where he stood in the open doorway to the bathroom, holding the door open so Jubilee could look inside from her position on the floor.

“Then what? Down the drain?” Jubilee asked sarcastically as she sat by the wall to the bathroom, looking in since her broken leg didn’t allow her to do much walking.

“At least I thought of something,” Bobby gave back, a little wounded.

“Quit it you two and work together. We have enough on our minds without fighting among ourselves,” Scott said from where he was still looking at Jean’s collar. The main cell and the bathroom were both very small so it was impossible to not overhear everything. Even Rogue and Logan’s debate from where they where standing next to the force field seemed very loud in the room, even though they whispered and everyone pretended they didn’t hear.

“This may be our only chance. Our powers don’t work. Don’t you see? We don’t know what might happen next,” Rogue argued as she uselessly hammered with her fists at the force shield.

”Will you stop that?” Logan looked annoyed and took her hands in his for a while to stop her battling. Her hands were already bloody. 

“Logan…” Rogue began, looking up at him with tears in her green eyes.

“Lov’, I don’t want your... and our first time to be like this - in the small bathroom as it can’t be in here where everyone can watch. I want it to be special,” Logan whispered softly against her ear, aware that everyone could hear him even over Bobby and Jubilee’s fighting over which things to try and take apart in the bathroom to try and find something to use for a weapon or anything else that might aid them.

“You don’t understand...this may be our only chance,” Rogue argued, her cheeks red from anger and the normal embarrassment any young girl feels about discussing **that** subject, especially in a room filled with people.

“I know, but you deserve better than this. We…I can wait. Forever, if I have to,” Logan said and tried to take her in his arms but she avoided him and sat by the far wall, covering her face in her hands, crying.

“Jean?” Scott asked and nodded to Rogue, silently asking her to do something about the situation. He didn’t like the tension that was building between them and neither of them needed more screams and cries to fill the air. The muffled cries of pain from further down the hall still hung in the air, giving them all the shivers and making them feel sick. Over the hours which must have passed since Scott woke up he had heard the word “No” cried out in pain so many times that he had come to hate the word with a vengeance.

“I’ll go check on her,” Jean said softly and left Scott’s side to go sit with Rogue, making him feel strangely alone and abandoned as Jean embraced the young woman, trying to make her calm down. The absence of their usual telepathic link didn’t help stop his feeling of abandonment.

“Ororo, how is it going?” Scott asked as he now began to look more closely at John’s collar since Jean had left. Every door had a key so this device had to have one too. It annoyed Scott immensely that he couldn’t find that key. There was a locking mechanism on the front of the collars but Scott couldn’t figure out how to use that to his advantage.

“I think I may be on to something,” Ororo answered as she moved Kitty’s hairpin back and forth in the locking mechanism of Xavier’s collar while he sat still and let her work.

“Do you know what you are doing?” John asked as he eyed the white-haired woman concentrating on her work.

“No, I don’t but I have to do something,” Ororo snapped and began to move her home made lock pick more viciously up and down. Suddenly Ororo flew back and was knocked against the back wall.

“Ororo! Are you alright?” Scott asked with concern and held his hand out to her to help her up. He still sat on the floor as standing brought him pain but Ororo had landed so close to where he sat that he could reach out to her. She took his hand in a loose grip, remembering he was still wounded and got back on her feet.

“I’m…unhurt,” Ororo uttered and went back and sat next to Xavier.

  
“Stormy, you alright? Gambit got concerned,” Remy said as he looked at her, seeing if she was all right. As always his French accent was heavy when his voice filled up with emotion.

“I’m fine, Remy. You just go back to what you were doing,” Ororo said mildly and smiled at him and Remy went back to studying the walls for any weaknesses. He too had got a hairpin from Kitty and tried to dig into the walls’ weak points, between the metal plates. Ororo hadn’t missed the longing looks he cast after Rogue in between his work. Ororo had found Remy as a small boy, living on the streets, picking pockets. She had been his mother, confidant and only friend for many years. Remy was a mutant with the power to charge anything with kinetic energy and make it explode on impact. Besides that, he also possessed what he called “my charm power” which meant that he could have any woman, or actually anybody, fall in love with him for a short period of time should he choose to use it. Not that he had to for Remy was as handsome as he was charming and had been since he had been a young boy. Ororo admired her young friend that he had so much control that he hadn’t used it on Rogue whom he had fallen head over heels in love with as soon as he had first laid eyes on her. She was totally ignorant of his love, seeing only Logan. Ororo was sure that if Rogue knew how passionately Remy loved her she wouldn’t be so quick to always talk about Logan with him or in front of him. 

“Aha, I see we have all awakened. How nice. Then maybe we can get down to business,” a man’s voice said, his English holding a slight accent that didn’t help making him sound any less cold, hard and calculated and all turned to look at him through the force field.


	6. You’re All Slaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-men meet their captors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Multiple chapters posted at once to cheer you all up during these times :)

## Chapter 6: You’re All Slaves

“What the fuck do you want?” Logan growled and placed himself protectively in front of Rogue, pushing her a little away from the man’s glance, however cold and professional it was. He especially didn’t like the look of lust in the eyes of the man’s guards who stood on either side of him outside the force field. All men wore uniforms, the same plain brownish ones that the ones who had captured them had worn. The man who had spoken had some stars and ribbons on his uniform, betraying his higher status. He wasn’t a bad looking man and would have been handsome despite his brown hair that had begun to show signs of sliver and his age that was around 50. However, his cold eyes ruined the image, giving him a hard look.

“You have no right to hold us here. Release us. Now,” Scott demanded, silently relieved that the language being spoken here, wherever here was, seemed to be English. He painfully got to his feet as all the X-Men able to had. With Bobby’s help, Jubilee had also got to her feet, putting her weight on her uninjured leg and leaning heavily against Bobby for support. Peter eased Kitty behind him and stood in front of her even though he couldn’t take even one bullet for her anymore without going down. Jean went to stand next to Scott who had reached towards Xavier. Taking the silent hint, Jean had reached for the older man too, so that he was now up, one arm around Scott’s shoulder and the other around Jean’s. He stood only by their power and the power of his will and his arms, refusing to meet his captors gaze while sitting on the floor.

“I’m sure this was just a misunderstanding and that we’ll be released now, ”Xavier said and eyed the man with a warning look.

“In your dreams, mutant,” one of the guards spat but the man who Scott was beginning to call leader in his mind, raised a hand and none said anything else. Normally, Scott admired control but never in his opponents. A man one could get a rise out off was also one you could bring to lose his temper and thereby make mistakes. This older leader seemed to have far too much control for Scott’s liking.

“I’m very pleased that we succeeded in capturing so many of the legendary X-Men, the best known mutant terrorist group in America. Who among you is the leader of this little band?” The captain let his glance sweep over the group, taking in the men’s protective composure, and tried to find one who stuck out. The old man who had been in a wheelchair seemed to have some kind of power but it wasn’t…right. His eyes fell on the mutant nearest to the force field, growling insults at his guards. Wolverine, the file said he was called. No, too uncontrolled. His eyes settled on the man standing in the middle, trying to not show the pain the wound in his side gave him. A red haired woman was next to him, helping him support the bald professor. She seemed his equal in every way, yet her concerned looks betrayed they were more than just comrades and also betrayed that, unlike him, her main occupation was not fighting and warfare. Unlike him who refused to remove his eyes from his gaze, the woman had shown emotions; a mistake the man had not done. His stance was straight, in control…looking defiant and maybe even proud as he stood surrounded by his friends. Could be him. Only one way to be sure.

“Well? Who is it?” he repeated, looking around for an answer.

“We are not telling you anything, bub,” the man nearest him, Wolverine, growled dangerously at him.

“You will find us very uncooperative,” the man in the middle said, his voice carrying a final edge of steel. Yes, it definitely was him. However, insolence and defiance could not be tolerated or go unpunished even if a part of him admired the mutant’s spirit.

“Maybe,” he said as he took out a hand-held devise and, despite themselves, the X-Men tried to look at it; curious and worried, not sure what to expect. “You didn’t think that those collars were just fashion statements, did you? They are weapons as well as restraints. As you might have figured out, you aren’t in New York anymore. In fact, you aren’t even in America. You are now on Genosha, a small island in the Pacific where we have our own mutant laws. Here mutants are slaves and that’s what you are now, too.”

A gasp of shock and disbelief ran through the X-Men.

“You can’t do this,” several yelled at once.

“I’ll kill you all,” Logan promised darkly. He so wished he could use his claws to cut them all to pieces but he knew from painful experience that within minutes of having popped his claws the agony would force him to his knees and he didn’t want to kneel to this man; ever.

“I’ll kill you before this is over,” Scott vowed calmly, murder in his eyes, but they lacked the coldness of the captain’s, making the captain certain the threat wasn’t real. On the other hand, he had no doubt Wolverine’s threat was very real. He saw the darkness in Wolverine’s eyes and knew this man had killed before and wouldn’t mind doing so again.

“I seriously doubt that. You’re not ready to kill. Yet,” the captain stated calmly. He pushed a button on his hand-held control and Scott instantly fell to the floor, screaming in agony and putting his hands to his head.

“Scott!” Jean yelled and quickly passed Xavier to Logan and Rogue before she kneeled by his side, trying to calm him down. “Stop, stop,” she cried, tears coming to her eyes at her helplessness to aid her husband who had curled into a fetal position on the floor, wincing in agony, so caught up in his misery that he tried to shy away even from Jean’s comforting hands.

“Stop this at once,” Xavier demanded, anger and despair in his voice.

“Release him,” Logan growled darkly.

“The first thing you will learn is that I decide everything. You can’t demand anything of me. You aren’t humans. You aren’t even living beings. Here you’re things to be bought and sold. Know now that any rebelling will be severely punished, the leaders tortured to death and all followers punished into obedience.” He had to raise his voice over Scott’s screams to make sure he was heard but his voice wasn’t hateful, simply stating facts. “Now, I will ask one more time and it will be the last. Who is your leader?”

“I am,” Xavier said and looked him in the eye, his gaze sure and certain, accepting whatever fate this fact might give him in hope his students would go unharmed.

“You lead this band into battle? I doubt it,” he pushed a new button and Scott stopped his agonised screams and with Jean’s help got up. She laid a hand on his shoulder but Scott wouldn’t allow her to support him more than that. Showing weakness was only something to do if he could gain an advantage from it and it didn’t look that way right now.

“What…did you…do…to me?” Scott demanded to know, his voice shaken and raw from his own screaming, sweat on his brow and his slightly shaking hands betrayed the aftershocks of his pain.

“All the slaves here wear collars. They are connected to the mutants’ nervous system. A push on a button on this control panel which all owners, sellers and buyers have, will active the collar and generate pain. Really a marvellous invention.” Again his voice was disconnected, simply stating a fact.

“I’m sure, so why don’t you wear one?” Bobby asked dryly. Luckily for him the man ignored him and turned his attention back to Scott.

“Your friend here…” he nodded to Xavier, “says he leads the X-Men. Is that true?”

“I lead the X-Men,” Scott said with as much strength as he could gather and hoped he didn’t sound as weak as he felt. That damn devise had set his entire nervous system in flames and his head had felt like it should explode.

“So, your friend lied to me?” the man asked and Scott didn’t miss the fact that his finger had moved towards the control panel again.

“No, he didn’t. I just lead the team in battle,” Scott answered, not wanting Xavier to get hurt or go through what he had.

“Good, we cleared that up. Come here.” He gestured for Scott to step towards the force field.

“No,” Scott shook his head to amplify his denial. There were limits to what he would do. He wasn’t a damn dog!

“I sure hope you aren’t all this stubborn for your own sakes,” the man said with a sigh, as if that would mean a great deal of work for him, which it probably would. His finger moved to the control again and Scott braced himself for the pain but it was Jean’s screams that tore through the room as she fell to the floor, her hands going to her head in a useless attempt to stop the pain she felt inside.

“Jean! Stop this at once,” Scott cried as he kneeled beside her, his heart crying for the pain she was in as she rolled into a ball, fighting to be brave for him but unable to as scream after scream was torn from her lips.

“You’ll go with me?” the man asked over the noise of Jean’s screams, Logan’s threats, Xavier’s attempts at reason and Kitty’s soft crying against Peter’s chest. 

Scott nodded.“Yes, damn it! Just release her.” Panic was in his voice and he sounded more pleading than demanding as the man finally did as he asked, and Jean’s screams ended. Her body finally relaxed enough so he could brush her hair away from her face and see tears of pain stain her cheeks, sweat on her brow and the aftermath of agony in her green eyes. Fighting tears himself for seeing her in such pain, Scott cupped her face.

“Oh, love. I’m so sorry.” Tears were in his voice but not in his eyes. This wasn’t the time or place for that.

“It’s…all right,” Jean rasped weakly, fighting hard to appear stronger than she was as Peter and Kitty came to help her. Scott drew back a little as Kitty and Peter got on either side of her and helped her stand again. Peter stood nearest to Scott and leaned a bit closer to whisper softly to him.

“We’ll take care of her,” he said and Scott smiled gratefully, relieved that Peter had known just the right thing to say.

“Thanks,” Scott whispered back, his eyes and tone of voice saying so much more than his simple word.

“Come here. I will not repeat myself,” the man demanded and Scott gave Jean a quick kiss.

“I love you. Remember that. Always,” he whispered in her ear and she let a weak hand intertwine its fingers with his as he started to walk towards the force field.

“I...love…you…too,” Jean rasped weakly, hopefully so low that the man didn’t hear. Not that he probably hadn’t figured that out already but still there was no reason to give him ammunition to use against them. As Scott walked further away from her, their hands fell apart. Scott passed Logan as he reached the force field, the older man’s eyes dark with suppressed anger, regret and memories of past torture he wished wouldn’t happen to Scott.

“Promise me you’ll protect her,” Scott whispered as he passed him, looking the other man in the eye. Logan wasn’t the most tactful or controlled person, but after he and Rogue had hooked up, their relationship had grown warmer and each man held a deep respect and understanding for the other. In a fight, Scott couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather have watch his back. Or…protect his loved ones.

“I will,” Logan promised solemnly as Scott brushed past him. Logan’s left arm, which he held around Rogue’s waist, tightened. They wouldn’t take her away from him. He’d rather die. Scott now stood before the force field and, with a push on a button on a panel outside the force field, he was pulled through and the field fell into place again. It all happened so fast that no one had time to act. A guard handcuffed Scott and started to lead him away, disappearing from sight around a corner.

“Where are you taking him?” Jean yelled after them, frightened and panicked as she ran to the force field, her fear making her forget her pain and weakness. Scott looked over his shoulder and gave her a small encouraging smile, his lips forming the words ‘I love you’ before he purposely turned his back on her as he was led further down the hallway. His attempt to comfort her only left her in tears, especially because she had been able to see the fear deep in his eyes as well as the determination not to give in to it.

“We have a few questions we’d like to ask him,” the man answered evenly as he too disappeared from sight down the hallway, leaving a very frustrated band of mutants behind.


	7. Searching For The X-men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The remaining X-men search for their friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter for this update. Hope this larger update will help someone through these troubled times. Remember to help each other out there; no hoarding!

## Chapter 7: Searching For The X-men

“They have to be somewhere,” Alex insisted as he received the latest updates from the students who had gone downtown to try and find some clues. “Search again,” he ordered, speaking into the com-link that connected him to Hank, the young mutant doctor and friend of Xavier’s who led the search party currently downtown in front of the mall looking for information. Somehow, it had seemed natural that Alex slip into a leadership role since it was his brother who was missing. Though they all missed their friends, only Alex had family missing. Besides that, he had managed to keep his cool, giving orders and suggestions while most of the other students had been scared that someone might attack the school next. Luckily that hadn’t happened but Alex still had several students standing guard to be on the safe side.

“Call me if you find something,” Alex ordered and closed the link. He turned to the students standing beside him and added, “The same goes for you; we have to keep searching,” Alex insisted. The remainder of the students had gathered with him in the X-Men’s Ready Room to go over all the data they so far had about the attack, which had happened three days ago. Everyone was tired and none had slept more than a few hours; the strain was beginning to show on them all.

“We have checked the data four times already,” Kurt complained on behalf of all the students gathered in the room, sitting around the table with tons of files and folders before them with information about the Brotherhood’s whereabouts as well as known mutant hate groups like the Friends Of Humanity, or FOH for short. So far they hadn’t been able to see a connection but there had been more than enough theories, including a theory that a mutant from the school had betrayed them since the attackers had known where to go. However, as Betsy had added over the private line that connected the school to Warren and Betsy’s large estate up town, they could have been spying on them just before the attack.

“Hon’, you’re driving them too hard,” Lorna whispered softly to Alex, low enough so none of the others could hear so her words wouldn’t undermine his authority. She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder to try and ease the tension she felt coming off him in waves. He drove the others hard but himself even harder. He looked tired and worn, like he had aged ten years in the three days that had gone by since the attack. He had choosen to carry the responsibility to find their friends again but it was clear that the burden of it was also weighing him down. 

“We need to find them and soon. Time is of the essence,” Alex reminded her, casting her a brief but grateful smile for the support she had given him through all this.

His eyes briefly caught one of the TVs they had set up in the room to catch any TV broadcasts and other documentaries that were shown of the fight their friends had had with their still unknown attackers. Of course, most of the TV stations told the story very differently, saying that mutants had attacked humans and all that usual rubbish, but some of the broadcasts were enlightening. Among other things, some stories had made it clear that, at least officially, the government condemned the attacks on their friends so that meant if they had been taken by an agency it was either an unofficial mission or a non-sanctioned mission. To their relief, that possible fact told them they didn’t have to fear that soldiers would suddenly attack the school, at least not more so than usual though they kept their guard up. They had also seen from a homemade video shown on TV that their friends had been taken but they had appeared alive at the time and that had given them all hope.

“I know. I worry too. We all do,” Lorna reminded him softly.

“I know.” He gave her a quick kiss before he became all business, his emotions again hidden behind a strong and determined mask. He pushed the ‘on’ button on the intercom to Warren and Betsy’s estate where they were also looking for clues, Warren having put some detectives on the task.

“Betsy, can you feel any of them?”

“No, it is as if their powers are…gone. They’re either unable to use their powers, not on this planet or…dead,” Betsy answered, not giving them much to work with. Earth was a big enough place to get lost in. The whole universe was way too much for Alex to even consider right now and death was not an option he would ever consider.

“Angel, do you have something?” Alex asked into the com-link again, knowing that if Betsy was near the com-link then Warren had to be right beside her. Warren had as a precaution doubled his security among all his buildings, especially after he had gone on TV to condemn the attacks and plea that the government act fast to get their friends back. His contacts in FBI and CIA hadn’t been able to find any threat to him or Xavier’s school but Warren hadn’t lessened his security. He doubted any of them would let their guard down until their friends were safely back with them.

“I’m still saying the attackers uniforms are our best clue. I have specialists trying to match them to any and all groups, domestic and abroad. I also have a report from one of my investigations teams. On the site of the fight they’ve found small pieces of clothing and blood which Hank says matches the X-Men we lost. There are also blood from unknown persons, all humans, which we assume are the attackers. All bodies have been removed though. Betsy says this is too professional for a hate group and I think she’s right. We should be looking for shadow government agencies, here and abroad.” Alex was about to answer but Warren beat him to it as he added with a hint of humour in his voice after having heard Alex bark this order several times over the last few days, his worry making his tempter flare and his patience grow short, “And yes, Betsy and I will keep at it here on our end.”

A short flash of amusement lit up Alex’s blue eyes at Warren’s words. “Good. Alex out.”

He cut off the com-link and ran a hand through his golden hair, his short show of humour gone. This was promising to be a long day in a long month in a long year. But he wouldn’t rest, he wouldn’t stop until he had found his brother, his only living relative he had first found so few months ago. No matter if he had to search until the end of time or ransack the Capitol or White House itself for the answers, he would find them. He would. No matter what it took, he’d be reunited with his brother. With a look around at the hard working students, a small smile curved his lips. He had friends who were just as determined as he was. Together, they would solve this puzzle. He believed that. He had to believe it.

“Wherever you are, hang in there,” Alex whispered softly to his brother and his missing friends. “Hang in there until we can come and get you.”


	8. Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott is tortured for information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned: Detailed torture in this chapter

## Chapter 8: Interrogation

Scott was led down the corridor, passing many cells like the one he and the others were held in. As the leader led the way, his five guards walking behind with Scott between them, Scott noticed how all the people in the cells hurried away from the force shields, hiding in the corners. The people he did see looked weak and most had rags on bodies that were covered with bruises and cuts. Scott felt sorry for them, for all they had had to endure but more than anything that they had been so broken, looking as if only the promise of finding peace in death could set them free.

He tried not to shiver. He would be strong. No matter what happened he would keep the dream in his heart: a dream of freedom. Those were his conscious thoughts but beneath them he felt the fear, the pain, begin to surface and he tried desperately to control it.

He feared for the others. Logan’s temper would surely get them in trouble, Xavier was a liability to them and was in danger of being killed as he couldn’t do any labour standing up, Peter would die before letting them hurt Kitty, and Jubilee and Bobby’s sharp tongues would surely earn them punishment. Above all, he feared for Jean, his wonderful Jean: the love of his life and the light of his heart. The thought of her harmed in any way was too painful to even consider. He feared for himself too. Especially now, as he was dragged towards a room while he heard screams from the other rooms around it.

As Scott was pushed into the room, he was sure he had entered hell. It was a cold room with metal walls like the cell he had been in. Looking around, he was sure there was more torture equipment on the walls than the Gestapo had had in their headquarters. There were chains, whips, knives, guns and electric things that Scott didn’t recognise. For once he felt ignorance was bliss, as he really didn’t want to find out what they could do. Besides the equipment on the walls and the simple metal lamp hanging from the ceiling, the room held a table with a lamp on it, a chair, chains hanging from the ceiling and an old-fashioned torture rack that Scott really hoped was just for show because it worked very well as a visual scare device. He could feel drops of sweat form all over his body as he fought to control his panic of what was about to happen. He had felt pain before; his foster dad had had a terrible temper and had hit Scott when he thought Scott was bad or when he was drunk, sometimes with his fists and sometimes with his belt. Scott had been wounded a few times in battle, too, but he had never been tortured before. He knew that whatever pain he had felt in the past would be nothing compared to what he was about to feel now.

“Hang him,” the leader ordered in that detached voice of his that somehow made it seem worse than if the order had been said in a voice filled with hate…as if he wasn’t even worth wasting any anger on. Scott felt a surge of fear at the older officer’s words. Were they going to kill him now? Just like that? His survival instincts fought with his morals; if he was dead he wouldn’t be able to betray anyone or say things that could endanger the others…however, it would also leave him dead and everything in him wanted to rebel at the very thought. He didn’t want to die and, if forced to admit it, he didn’t want to die even if it meant betraying his friends to stay alive. It was a disturbing thought, human as it might be, that he didn’t want to think about.

Two of the guards came to him and forced his arms above his head and locked them in the chains hanging from the ceiling, the metal cold against his skin. Despite the trouble he was in, Scott felt a surge of relief. They weren’t going to kill him. Not yet anyway. A guard pushed a button on the wall and the chains pulled Scott up with them as they were retracted into a hole in the ceiling, letting him hang in the air about a half a meter from the hard, stone floor. The strain in his arms was unpleasant to say the least, and it made his side hurt so damn much he had to blink back tears but with sheer force of will he managed not to show his discomfort.

“Let’s try and do this in a civilised manner,” the leader began calmly, walking into Scott’s line of vision. “I know there are more mutants in your group. Tell me where your base of operations is and I’ll let you return to your cell and your…woman.” The man’s voice was remarkably reasonable and controlled, annoying the hell out of him.

_Yeah, right. Tell you so you can capture and enslave them all. Eventually kill them, my brother included. No thanks_ , Scott thought darkly. At least they hadn’t connected the school to the X-Men, which wasn’t surprising. No one would think it was **that** obvious.

“You knew my answer before you asked your question,” Scott answered and tried to keep his voice under control - to keep it as even as the leader’s. He wasn’t sure if the mention of Jean was meant as a threat or not but he didn’t like it. The man leaned closer to Scott, forced to look up at him to lock his gaze with the younger mutant because not only was Scott hanging half a meter up in the air but he was also a tall man.

“This is your last chance. My colleagues here will not be as reasonable as I. They have a great hatred for your kind and would love to…” he seemed to search for the right word, making Scott’s heart beat even faster though he managed to keep his face neutral as the leader settled with, “work on you. And eventually they **will** break you,” he promised as he gestured to the guards, the murder and hatred in their eyes telling Scott more clearly than words that he wasn’t lying.

“I know,” Scott admitted softly and licked suddenly dry lips. He would break eventually but he’d be damned if he’d go down without a fight. The leader’s eyes flashed with something Scott hadn’t expected to see: admiration and maybe a hint of sadness over what he had to do.

“Even if you are a mutant, I do admire your courage although it will do you no good.” His words were soft and laced with a hint of regret for what he deemed unavoidable. Then his expression closed off, becoming distant and cold once more. “Guards,” he called over his shoulder and the five men moved up to him, saluting.

“Yes, Sir?” they chorused.

“Use any means necessary but I want to know the location of their base.” He saw the look of pleasure in their eyes and added sternly, “But no permanent damage. I have plans for this one.”

He turned to leave. 

“Why do you do this?” Scott yelled after him, his own puzzlement surprising him, yet he had always been a man fascinated by mysteries and contradictions. This man, their leader, he wasn’t like the others, like his guards. He didn’t take pleasure in pain but used it if it gave him the means to his end. That control of his would in Scott’s eyes place him as a more fearsome opponent than the five soldiers who were giving him hateful looks. The older man turned back to him and gave him a look Scott couldn’t decipher.

”Like you, I follow a dream. I believe this to be right, as you believe your dream to be right. Had it been the other way around you’d have done the same,” he explained and turned to go again.

”I doubt it,” Scott called after him but the leader didn’t respond. After he had left the room, the door closed with a loud noise that somehow seemed like a forewarning of darker things to come.

“Now, you’re ours, pretty boy,” one guard said, his voice hard and twisted with distaste as if Scott was a bug that he was supposed to kill but had found oddly appealing. He advanced on him and with an abruptness that surprised Scott, even though he had tried to prepare himself for it, the guard took a swing at him, his fist colliding with Scott’s already sore cheek, forcing his head to fly to the side. Scott willed himself to turn back and pin his attacker with a cold look, tasting the faint metallic taste of blood in his month from a split lip. He was more afraid than he had ever been in his life but he refused to show it, simply giving the guard a look that, even without his powers, was a beam of pure intensity that, to Scott’s satisfaction, managed to unsettle the guard a little.

“You know what? I’ll prefer it if you didn’t talk just yet,” another guard said and took forth a knife and let it caress Scott’s cheek like a lover. Scott forced himself not to draw back as the man pushed harder and the knife drew a trickle of blood from Scott’s ear to his lip. One of the five guards had vanished from his line of vision and Scott didn’t like it. He had lived as a blind man for two years after his powers had manifested and he hadn’t dared to open them again for fear of hurting someone. From those years came a fear for sudden movements, not knowing from where an attack might come. He didn’t like not knowing where his enemies were and he tried to use his hearing to locate the man, trying to remember the exercises he had gone through while blind. Suddenly his shirt was torn to pieces with a knife from behind, making Scott regret that he hadn’t had the time to put on his uniform when he had heard Jean’s painful mental cry for help, as it would had been almost impossible to cut into. He knew what was to come as he was stripped to the waist and braced himself as he heard the guard behind him laugh, a cruel sound without any humour.

“I see that someone knows your true place, slave.” He amplified the last word, satisfaction in his voice. “You have been whipped before.”

Scott briefly closed his eyes as the words bought back memories of the times before, for there had been many. His foster dad’s fits of rage weren’t things he wanted to remember. In fact, he had spent a great deal of his adult years trying to forget them. Forget hearing his own screams of pain and pleas to stop as he curled up in a corner, hands uselessly raised over his head to try and protect himself. Truth be told, he had never forgotten; his nightmares spoke of that fact, though mostly he could pretend he had.

“Believe me; you haven’t felt anything like this before,” the man behind him promised and Scott knew he was speaking the truth. He heard a crack and knew the man behind him had unfurled a whip from the display on the walls and had made it hit the floor. Scott tensed at the sound and clenched his teeth tightly together, more because he didn’t want to bite off his tongue in pain than because he didn’t want them to hear him scream for he knew he would scream in pain - no one could avoid it when it was the only release from the pain. Sooner than he had expected the first blow of the whip fell and Scott nearly cried out at the unexpected pain as the leather whip bit into his flesh, tearing an angry red gash in his back and making warm blood begin to spill out. Gods, it felt like he was being cut in two. The next blow fell before he had time to try and get his breath back after the first one. He felt the whip bite into his back, taking away pieces of flesh. The pain was already becoming intense and almost unbearable.

“Hit him harder. I want to hear him scream,” one guard said and, even though Scott hadn’t thought it possible, the whip fell even harder than before. Unwillingly, a small moan of pain escaped his lips.

“That’s better.”

“Tell me, am I the only one to do some work around here?” the man behind Scott asked someone and he sounded exhausted at swinging the whip as hard as he could at Scott’s back.

“He won’t be able to feel any other pain that strongly right now. Wait ‘til Mark is finished,” one said, obviously meaning the man with the whip. Scott felt tears burning in his eyes. This was only the beginning and the thought made it hard to keep his strength together as the situation appeared hopeless. As the whip fell again, he did scream out loud in agony when the pain became too intense to bear. Blood warmed his abused skin as it ran down his back to drip onto the floor, making a bigger and bigger pool at his feet. Time lost all meaning as Scott concentrated on enduring this blow and then the next. His vision and the world dissolved into nothing more than flickers of red as pain, blood and agony mixed together and drove all rational thoughts from his mind. When the man finally stopped to ask where the other X-Men were, Scott couldn’t have answered even if he wanted to. His mind was lost in an ocean of darkness, blood and pain as his consciousness slipped away. Angered by his silence, the man beat him again with renewed strength. Scott let out scream after scream but his mind wasn’t even aware of what he did. Finally, he felt the invading darkness in his mind elope with his consciousness and gratefully take him away from the pain and agony. Finally, he couldn’t feel anything anymore.

* * *

“Wake up, mutant. We haven’t got all day, you know?” a voice holding slight amusement and anger demanded and he was struck in the face, his head flying to the side. Scott felt himself being torn from the protective darkness and back into pain and he tried to fight it. He wanted to stay where he was…in oblivion…away from the pain. But despite his efforts to the contrary, he was pulled away and back towards consciousness. Again a blow fell and his head flew toward the other side. The pain in his split lip and abused face from countless hits forced him all the way back to consciousness. His arms hurt as he still hung from the ceiling, his back was sore and bleeding, his side was enflamed and every move he made sent flames of agony through him. His entire body felt as if he was on fire with pain and a moan of pain escaped his swollen lips.

“Finally awake, are we?” one guard asked with a leer as he saw Scott force one eye open. Scott’s other eye was swollen from the beatings it had taken and he was unable to open it. It was his right eye that he couldn’t use and now that he had returned to consciousness he felt it hurt like hell.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry about your eye but we needed to amuse ourselves a little when you decided to go faint on us,” another guard said with a smile that could freeze the Pacific.

“What…did…you...do?” Scott weakly tried to ask but it sounded something like, “Waaa di…y…o?” when spoken through a haze of pain from his battered lips.

“Oh, well. Who needs two eyes anyway? No mutant slave, that’s for sure,” another guard laughed and Scott felt death creep over him. His worst nightmare had always been to go permanently blind, to return to the haze of helplessness he had been forced to endure for two years and never be able to return. A paranoid part of his mind was sure his tormentors had known this.

“Enough talk. Let’s have some fun,” a guard said and he came into Scott’s line of vision. Scott didn’t recognise him and guessed it had to be the guard who had whipped him. In his hands he held a glowing brand and he put it close enough to Scott’s cheek that Scott could feel the heat from it and he unwillingly drew his head back.

“Now, let’s try this again. Where are the other X-Men?” The guard let the brand move towards Scott’s left arm, holding it just a few millimetres from his exposed skin.

“I…don’t know,” Scott tried to rasp, sweat coming to his brow as fear fought the pain in his body for control. A part of him was screaming for him to tell them. The pain in his body was already worse than anything he would ever have thought possible and this would hurt so badly. Yet he still held on; he couldn’t betray his brother…his friends.

“Bullshit,” one guard spat and hit him in the stomach, taking his breath away. Scott drew pained gasps as he watched, with horror, the brand coming closer to his skin.

“What a shame,” the guard, Mark, said with a grin as Scott uselessly and weakly fought against his chains to draw back from him. The brand touched Scott and he cried out loud in fresh agony as his skin seared and the stench of burning human flesh, his own flesh, filled the air with a sweet aroma that sickened him.


	9. Waiting For Scott

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-men react to being able to hear Scott's torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions torture  
> The song Remy this is "I Lay My Love On You" by Westlife.

## Chapter 9: Waiting For Scott

Jean sat on the floor, hugging herself, her knees pulled up to her chin, her back up against the wall. Her face was as white as a sheet and she looked so fragile, as if a feather-light touch would break her. Every time someone passed outside in the hallway she would lift her head and eagerly await Scott’s return. And each time it wasn’t him. She had seen men, women and children, broken and bruised being pushed by, their eyes empty and their stares blank. She had moved over to sit just beside the force field to be sure not to miss him should…when Scott came back. He must have been gone for hours. At least it felt that way. No one had had a watch on them when they had awakened; it must had been removed together with anything else of value they had had in their clothes, like wallets, jewellery and coins, so it was hard to tell. Her whole world had been thrown into uncertainty but she knew one thing; she needed Scott back and without him near she felt like she was slowly dying from worry. The lack of their normal telepathic bond only increased the feeling of loss and abandonment she had, making his absence almost physically hurtful. The worst thing about the whole situation was the uncertainty. He had been taken from her and she had no way of knowing what was happening to him or even why. She had a very good imagination and right now it was on overdrive, feeding her one painful image of what Scott could be going through after another.

The others had tried to calm her, saying he would be back soon but she knew better. Xavier had told her as well, but he was a poor liar. Then Logan had repeated it, in more colourful words, and it had sounded more convincing, but still she had seen the sadness in their eyes as the words had rolled off their tongues. They knew their words were false. But she had so wanted to believe them. For a while it had worked. The others had left her in peace and she had waited for his return. Until…until the screams had begun. She didn’t know where they came from but they echoed around the small cell as clearly as if he had been in the room next to theirs. It was driving them all crazy, and her most of all.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” a yell of pure agony, Scott’s voice twisted almost beyond recognition, sounded through the building and the small cell, sending shock waves through them all.

“This is too much. I can’t take this anymore!” Kitty cried as she gave up her already useless attempt at finding a way out, looking darkly at the metal plates on the walls, by now hating their smooth, blank surface with more intensity than she had thought possible.

“Shhh, dorogaya _[Russian for “darling”]._ All will be all right,” Peter whispered and gathered her in his arms, drawing calming circles on her back.

“How the fuck is it going to be alright? We’re locked up, going to be sold as slaves, tortu…” Jubilee began angrily, scared and again sitting on the floor. Pain was clearly evident in her voice and face as her leg sent waves of agony through her. She just barely managed not to complain about it constantly, trying to take comfort in the fact that at least she was in here and not being hurt like Scott. As always, she used anger as defence against her pain. Bobby, who had been talking with her about the possibilities of the bathroom as the means for escape, quickly knelt beside her and put his hand over her mouth before **that** word escaped her lips.

“Shut up and help me,” he hissed, giving her a warning look as he with his eyes indicated Jean’s face which seemed even more drained of colour. Jubilee cast Jean an apologetic look and nodded to Bobby that she’d be silent. He removed her hand and began to voice some new, wild, and they both knew, impossible, ideas of what to use the bathroom things for. Most of all they just talked about escape plans to keep their minds off Scott’s screams and to remain in the belief that escape was indeed possible. Though they all still searched and even though none would voice it, they all knew that for now there was no way out.

“I’m going out of my mind,” Jean whispered, pained when another cry of agony followed. She put her hands over her ears in a failed attempt at blocking out the terrible images the screams brought up in her mind.

“You sick bastards,” Logan yelled to no one and everyone as yet another scream followed. Rogue pressed herself against his chest and tears fell from her eyes. She wished he could stop the screams and make them…make it all go away.

“Make it go away. Please,” she mumbled against his chest and Logan stroked her hair, whispering unintelligible words of comfort. Remy stood off to one side, alone. Ororo noticed a small tear glimmering in his eye and wanted to go to him but she was still working on Xavier’s collar, hoping that by keeping busy she could ignore the screams of pain. So far it hadn’t worked. Everyone in the cell seemed on edge, ready to fall apart and still the screams came, threatening to break many of them without doing more than forcing them to listen to their friend’s cries of agony, knowing they were helpless to aid him and knowing that his pain could easily become their own if their captors wished it so.

Suddenly, into one of the agonizing pauses between the terrible screams a song was heard, soft, low but still clear:

“Just a smile and rain is gone

Can hardly wait

Can hardly believe it

There’s an angel standing next

To me

Reaching for my heart.”

Ororo turned towards the source of the voice and saw Remy singing. He actually had a fine singing voice and his French accent wasn’t as strong in song as in speech. She smiled, as she knew what he was trying to do and when she looked at the professor she read in his eyes that he understood as well. During his singing everyone had turned to look at him, having forgotten their ordeal, their fear and pain. Even Scott’s screams had drowned in his song. When Remy continued the song that they all knew well since Jubilee had played it for months on her stereo, Ororo and Xavier sang with him, hoping to get the others to join with them as well so their minds would be able to escape the pain and frustration they all felt:

“Just a smile and there’s no way

Back

Can hardly believe it

But there’s an angel standing next to me

Reaching for my heart.”

It didn’t escape Ororo’s eyes that Remy was looking softly at Rogue as he sang, his words for her. But she looked up at Logan as she sang with them and Logan smiled at her and grunted a few unheard words with them, a warm and loving look in his eyes as he held Rogue close to him. As they began the next verse all but Jean sang with Remy;

“I know I’ll be ok

This time it’s real.”

Jean smiled through her tears as if the words bought back good memories of happier days with Scott and even she sang with them for the next part:

“Just a smile and there’s no way

Back

Can hardly believe it

But there’s an angel standing next to me

Reaching for my heart.”

Any other screams were muted as Remy picked up a new song as soon as one was finished, always choosing songs all knew, always choosing happy and upbeat songs that would drown out everything else and keep their minds on one simple task: to sing a song. When the songs finally died away, no screams were heard and the cell was quiet. For a while no one spoke, until Remy broke out in hysterical laughter and soon the others followed him. They had nothing to laugh about and everything to cry over, and yet an insane laughter ran through the cell as if they needed this, needed this release, this carefree moment of pretend for just a few seconds until reality couldn’t be denied any longer. Even as their laughter died away the stillness that followed seemed more inclined to mock them than cry for them.


	10. To The Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's torment finally ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More mention of torture

## Chapter 10: To The Rescue

Black Thunder walked with swift steps down the hallway towards the captain’s office. He was a man in his mid-thirties, his skin a beautiful copper colour and his eyes and shoulder length hair, currently tied up with a plain leather band in the back of his neck, were as black as the darkest reaches of space. Like most male mutants he wore only trousers, only his were made of skin and in a better condition than most, and, of course, the collar all mutants wore on Genosha. The scars on his back, chest, arms and legs bore evidence of a hard life. He was a strong man and would have been thought handsome had it not been for the scars on his body and the deep scar that ran from his left eye to his neck and gave him a somewhat grim look. As he reached the captain’s door, he entered, closed the door and stood at attention before the captain’s desk, his hands clasped behind his back.

The captain’s office was like the man himself: neat and only contained the most needed objects. There was a window behind his desk and a few landscape paintings on the walls but that was the only kind of decoration. On his desk were folders, a computer, paper and pen but no photos or any other personal touches. 

“Captain, I bring news,” his voice was spoken almost in a whisper, monotone and without emotions, his black eyes, which officially labelled him a Genoshan native, were fasted on the older man seated behind the desk.

“Let me have it then,” the captain requested from behind his desk, looking up from the files he had been reading. He had just been looking into the X-Men’s files again. He had hoped that their leader, the one called Cyclops, and who, now that he had been seen without visor and costume had been positively identified as Scott Summers, would tell him something soon. He had been ordered to find out more about the X-Men, specifically where their base of operations was, so the American government could deal with the rest of the mutants there when they saw fit. In return for this intell, the Genoshan government would receive a handsome amount of money, which was desperately needed since the island still had some free rebel groups to fight against. These rebel groups fought against the government policy on mutants and they were mostly composed of intellectuals, other minority groups, some runaway mutant slaves and the few free natives still left on the island.

“I have been sent by General Makee. He has been contacted by a liaison to the president of Genosha who has received new from the United States. Apparently, the agency that requested we take the X-Men off of their hands are under investigation as they operated without orders from their superiors. To prevent an international incident no more mutants are to be transported from the US to Genosha. The X-Men can never be returned to America for fear they might talk and all bonds have been broken between our governments. You are to stop the questioning of the X-Men leader and put him and the others to do whatever work serves Genosha best.” As always, Black Thunder’s voice and eyes were emotionless and one who saw the two men together would never have guessed that they had known each other for years.

“Is that an order?” the Captain asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the other man, a threat not very well hidden in the words, clearly warned Black Thunder to remember his place.

“From the President, yes,” he replied, seemingly unfazed by the threat in the captain’s eyes. 

“Very well then.” The captain sighed in defeat. No location from Cyclops, no money to the high lords…and thus no promotion to him. Oh, well, this assignment of caring for the mutant and rebel slaves wasn’t that bad and he had time. His chance would come. “Go see if you can’t patch him up,” he ordered, knowing he had been close to breaking the X-Men leader. Everyone broke; it was just a matter of time and he was somehow sure that no matter how battle trained the X-Men were, none of them, except maybe Wolverine, had had the necessary training to withstand torture. Professor Xavier who he was now sure had founded the group, simply didn’t look like a man who’d hurt his own people to teach them how to withstand pain…in any case, not without their powers to aid them.

Black Thunder gave a nod of his head to indicate he understood the order but didn’t salute as he wasn’t a soldier; despite his status, he was still a mutant and thus not worthy to be a part of the normal chain of command. Black Thunder turned to go when no more orders were forthcoming.

“Oh, and Michael…” the captain amplified the name, the white name, human name, given him by his captors but got no reaction from Black Thunder other than turning back to stand as before. The captain nodded silently in satisfaction. A sign of distaste to the name given him would be a sign of disobedience, something that after so many years as a slave should be dead in him. He continued, “…tell me when Cyclops is back with the others. I have need for them later. That will be all.” He made a dismissive gesture and Black Thunder exited the room.

Black Thunder walked again down the hallway until he found the room he was looking for and went in. The room was cast in darkness save a weak light from the lamp in the ceiling. However, he soon made out five persons standing over a body crumpled up in the back corner, mumbling words of pain as he was kicked and beaten by the five men standing over him. The men were shouting insults at him and laughing over the power they had over the man, who tried to crawl further away from them but unable to as his back was against the wall. They were so consumed by their interrogation that they didn’t notice he had entered. Black Thunder doubted they would have heard him anyway, as they yelled their insults of all kinds at the man in the corner so loudly the whole building should have heard them by now. He had heard all the insults before and then some, yet somewhere deep within, a place in his soul where light still shone even though they had tried to beat it out of him for years, he cried for the man. Yet, his voice and eyes betrayed nothing as he let the door slam shut.

“Stop this at once!” His voice was, as always, low, but held an edge of steel that couldn’t be denied.

“You have no right to give orders, half-breed,” one of the guards spat and Black Thunder could now see that he and the other guards were wearing night goggles to be able to see in the darkened cell. He knew this method to break a prisoner well, and right he should as he had been on both the receiving and giving end of it. The darkness and the not knowing were often what broke the prisoners more than the beatings themselves.

“Today I have,” he said calmly, letting the old insult roll off him. As the son of a white man and a mutant Native, the insult covered two kinds of half-breed and he had heard it so many times it didn’t touch him anymore. “Orders from the captain. The prisoner is to be released. Now!” Black Thunder continued and moved closer and his eyes quickly gave him the full advantage of sight even in the dark room. The gift of good night vision was something he had inherited from his mother and her people, a natural gift to the Natives of Genosha and thus it wasn’t dampened by the collar he wore.

“If the Captain says so…” One guard began to back away from the crumpled form in the corner.

“Don’t be stupid. He’s lying. His kind always is,” another spat and to prove his point he delivered yet another kick to the man on the floor.

“I said…” Black Thunder began as he drove closer and with a quick move and an even quicker fist knocked two guards to the floor and moved in on the three others. “…you…were…” another guard fell to the floor before he even had a chance to know what was happening, “…to…leave…him…alone,” as his sentence ended so did the resistance from the guards as they were now all out cold on the floor. He knew he had to come up with a damn good explanation as to why he had hit the guards so quickly instead of trying to reason with them, but that had to wait. Even if he had to take punishment for it, it didn’t matter. It had been so satisfactory to hit them that he did not care for the consequences of his actions. It was a shame he couldn’t kill them but the captain hadn’t ordered a termination on them…yet. He was hopeful, as the guards had had more than 24 hours now to try and get information out of the X-Men leader and still stood empty handed. He would enjoy killing them and hoped the captain would give him the assignment if the order were given for termination.

However, all thoughts of killing disappeared as he bent towards the man in the corner. With his night vision and the faint glow from the lamp, he could see that the man was naked and bruised all over. He was only half conscious and Black Thunder was sure that the only reason why he hadn’t passed out from the pain was because the guards had used a drug to prevent this. As Black Thunder reached out a hand towards the man, he tried to crawl more into the corner, his eyes telling Black Thunder that he wasn’t even consciously aware of this reaction. Black Thunder frowned as he drew his hand back. Torture was one thing, but he knew rape was an often used and very effective method of breaking a prisoner. The man’s withdrawal was to be expected, but he decided he should have the man checked out to be sure he didn’t have internal bleeding if he had been raped.

Black Thunder left to find the antidote to the drug given him, not trying to touch him again. He returned soon after and again kneeled beside the man. He reached for him but through bruised and broken lips the man tried to utter a weak, “No,” and drew back. Black Thunder didn’t let him; he grabbed his arm in an iron grip and put the needle in his vein. The man fought to stay conscious, probably afraid of what would happen should he fall into unconsciousness, but the drugs left him no choice. His eyes closed and his breathing became even.

“Finally, warrior, at least for a time, you feel no pain,” Black Thunder whispered as he gently lifted the man up into his arms and carried him out of the room which still held so many dark memories for him and now sure as hell did for the man in his arms.


	11. Seeing The Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott sees a doctor and finally gets to heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References torture. Mentions rape, specifically using rape as torture.  
> Mentions racism and politics

##  Chapter 11: Seeing The Doctor

“What do you have there?” Doctor Cecilia asked as she saw Black Thunder coming through the door to the compound’s medical facility for the slaves that lived there, carrying a naked and very bruised white young man in his arms. She winced in sympathy for his injures and was glad to see he was unconscious.

“Do what you can,” Black Thunder said as he laid the man on a free medical bed.

“I’m a doctor, not a miracle worker,” Cecilia complained, something she always did when Black Thunder ordered her about and it gave her a sense of normalcy, as if she didn’t know that if she couldn’t perform the miracles the high lords expected she would be punished for it. It didn’t matter how hard she had worked or how much she complained about lack of equipment either.

Cecilia went away from the bedside of a young mutant boy who she feared she would lose to pneumonia because she couldn’t get proper medicine in time to save him and he wasn’t deemed important enough to try and speed things up for. She walked quickly over to check on the man Black Thunder had just carried in, with him still standing beside the bed to await her diagnosis. Cecilia was a tall black woman, also wearing the collar as Black Thunder did. Before all this had happened, she had been a doctor and when Black Thunder had found her in all the confusion of newly arrived slaves he had suggested to the captain that she should be allowed to work as a doctor for the mutant slaves, arguing that a dead slave wasn’t worth anything. His request had been granted but, despite her best efforts, Cecilia had to work with used and old equipment and never enough medicine, thus she often lost patients with conditions that could have been cured had they been allowed to come to her in time and had she had decent equipment.

Cecilia began looking at Scott’s wounds on his torso. There were marks from beatings and burn wounds from cigarettes. When she had first come here she had been shocked at the cruelty of her captors, but now nothing shocked her. She had several times been asked to keep captured run away slaves alive for interrogation so they could be alive until they revealed who had helped them and how. She had wanted to refuse but the alternative had scared her too much. She had been there and never wanted to feel that pain again. Besides, she was a doctor. She couldn’t refuse to help them even if she knew she only patched them up so they could be tortured again. She remembered once, when Black Thunder had come to her while she was fighting to save the life of a young woman who had been tortured for hours, which wasn’t an easy thing to do. Without a word he had walked to the machine keeping the woman alive and turned it off. Cecilia had tried to go to her to try and save her but Black Thunder had blocked her way, holding her back. She had cursed him then, cursed his calm voice as he had told her it was for the best. When later she discovered the fate some of her “saved” patients got, like that woman would have, she had understood his reasons even if she didn’t agree with them. In his opinion, life without hope was no life at all. He and all the others may be slaves but they still had the hope, the illusion of life, some more than others. The runaway mutants she had been told to patch together had not been alive. They were already dead as soon as they had been caught.

“I know you can do this,” Black Thunder said softly, confidently, and helped her tend to the man’s wounds and turned him over so she could treat his back. She looked at the angry red welts, the dried blood and the already forming scars.

“This is barbaric,” Cecilia said angrily as she put some healing ointment on his bruised back and made a bandage for him; it was all she could do with her limited resources. She had to save on everything. She knew that by now she shouldn’t feel this strongly against torture and pain but she had been placed as doctor here before she had been broken, thus she had never got used to the violence like Black Thunder and practically everyone else had.

“I have seen worse,” Black Thunder commented tonelessly as he worked mechanically with her.

Cecilia cast him stolen glances. She had known him for almost three years now, yet she still knew as little about him as when they had first met. She was sure that deep inside he was a good man, though most of the time that goodness was very hard to see and his sense of what was right and wrong was, in her opinion, often twisted and very self-serving but it was what had kept him alive for so long. He had a bearing about him, a slave with an air of pride, which made her wonder why he worked with their captors. To make his life easier and save his own life most likely, yet in all the years she had known him, he had never seemed like a quitter or someone to give in easily. He was a man who was very hard to get to know. The slaves whispered about him, some good but mostly bad. After all; he was to most a traitor to his own kind. He was a highly placed errand boy for the captain, that and a very skilled assassin. She had heard rumours about him. That he was the one the captain sent out if he wanted someone eliminated, slave or guard alike. Oh, yes, it wasn’t just the slaves who were controlled with an iron fist.

“I need you to check if he has been raped,” Black Thunder requested softly and there was an edge to his words that made it clear to her that he had some kind of emotional issue with rape. He rarely betrayed his emotions and torture and death normally never moved him, but for some reason rape always did...well, if the small, almost unnoticeable notch in his voice was having issues that is. Cecilia still believed Black Thunder cared deep down and had made it her life’s mission to try and find something good and right in everyone around her, including the emotionally closed off man beside her.

“Maybe you shouldn’t…” she began softly, indicated he might want to move while she checked the unconscious man’s rectum for bruises and scars but Black Thunder merely shook his head, his eyes even darker than normal. Cecilia fell silent and after pulling on some gloves she gently spread the man’s legs a bit, checking for scarring and tears. She breathed a sigh of relief when she could find neither.

“He’s okay.” No one else would have seen it, but after three years of seeing the man regularly Cecilia noticed how a line disappeared from BT’s forehead in response to the news. They continued their work in silence, both lost in dark thoughts.

“How soon until he is able to work?” Black Thunder asked much later as the man was bandaged and now slept in the hospital bed next to the dying boy she had seen to earlier.

“Three days.” After years of practise and due punishment the lie rolled easily off her tongue. If he were to be at his best, she actually wanted to keep him in the hospital for weeks but she knew that was impossible.

“I can give you till tomorrow but that’s all. He’s to be ready when I come for him,” Black Thunder turned to go.

“Wait. Who is he?” Cecilia asked curiously. She had never seen him before. He was actually beautiful. At least he had been. She hoped the wounds wouldn’t scar too badly, especially the one he had in his face and his eye.

“…The leader of the X-Men, the American mutant terrorist group that was recently captured.” The answer was long in coming and he turned to leave again.

“Doesn’t he have a name?” Cecilia asked and couldn’t keep a hint of amusement out of her voice. The debate over such things like this, such normal things like calling someone by name, was something they often debated.

“To me, no. A name means you cast emotions and ties. That will only destroy you. Never do that, Doctor. Never, ”Black Thunder’s voice was as even as ever but Cecilia could have sworn she heard a hint of sadness in it.

“Then why did you save him? And he’s even white!” Cecilia asked after him.

It wasn’t that she had anything against whites as such, at least she didn't before all of this, but all their guards were white as well as all the leaders of Genosha. It could be hard to separate the hate for one’s captors and all whites in general. Sure, a fair share of the mutants here was white but still…she also knew of Black Thunder’s …if not hate then distaste for white people. Especially white males. Maybe it was because of his Native background. White settlers had over the years colonized Genosha and had all but wiped out the Natives and their culture. She didn’t know precisely what demons he had and what role white males had played in his life but she was sure his distaste hadn’t been inspired by Santa Claus. She too, had had a difficult time even before she had been brought here. She had been black and a woman, yet still she had fought to get into and stay in medical school. To also be a mutant had made it even worse. She had felt the prejudice even if it hadn’t been spoken out loud. When she had worked at the hospital, how many times had white males automatically assumed that she was a nurse and not a doctor? Especially if she had a white, male nurse or doctor with her, patients would turn to him and not her. Then, when it had become common knowledge she was a mutant and when the anti-mutant discrimination had begun to flame….everything had fallen apart. She had been one of the last mutants to be taken as a slave due to her status as a doctor but in the end, when she had been unable to help patch up the Genoshian government troops who had been fighting the rebels, rebels fighting for equal rights, fighting for her, she had been sent here. She wasn’t even a powerful mutant. She could make protective force shields around herself and a few others but that was all.

The tossing and turning of her newest patient brought her thoughts back to the present and she returned to his bedside. She increased his sedative and he fell into a peaceful sleep. She knew that when he was away from her care, he’d have pain and he’d remember. Nightmares and traumas would develop. As long as she could help it, she wanted to prevent that even if it meant him being unconsciousness for the most part. But then again, around here unconsciousness and death were the only two ways to forget pain and the world for a while.

While she was at his side, Cecilia took a small flashlight and looked at the man’s eyes. Since Black Thunder had brought him in unconscious, she hadn’t seen them before. One eye looked all right but she saw a red light glitter in the back of his eye from time to time, and she was sure that this man’s mutant power had something to do with his eyes. She looked at his right eye, which was swollen and sealed shut by dried blood. She forced the eye open and looked into it. She almost dropped the flashlight in shock as she saw his right eye stare unseeingly back at her. It seemed as if a small, sharp and very warm object had been stuck into his eye. He had been blinded on his right eye! Anger and compassion filled her mind. Anger towards this man’s tormentors and compassion towards her patient. This wasn’t the first time she had seen such an injury but she couldn’t help her response to it. She knew both feelings were dangerous and Black Thunder would warn her against them, but she couldn’t turn her emotions off like he could. In her opinion, her compassion was the only thing that set her apart from her captors. Her eyes returned to the man in the bed and she stroked some brown hair away from his sweaty forehead. This man didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this. She wanted to sit by his bedside as if that would somehow help him, but a scream from the other end of the hospital room filled with beds told her that she had new patients yet again. With a last look at the man in the bed, bandages covering his abused body, she turned away from him to resume her seemingly never-ending work. She could tell this would be another very long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter for now for this large update. Hope reading all of this will help someone through these difficult times. Kudos and comments would mean a lot to me so if you are enjoying the story please let me know. :)


	12. Rejoining The X-men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott rejoins the X-men

## Chapter 12: Rejoining The X-men

Cecilia looked at the man in the bed. Black Thunder would be here any minute now. She had to wake him up. She had let him stay unconscious, for the most part, since he had arrived, yet she couldn’t shield him from the truth or the pain any longer. Taking a needle, she filled it with the antidote and injected it into a vein in the man’s arm.

“Ohhh,” the man moaned as he blinked and tried to sit up, fear flashing over his face as he remembered what he had just been through.

“Careful. Here, let me help you,” Cecilia said as she arranged the pillows in his bed, and helped him to sit up, careful to not put too much pressure on his abused back.

“Where…am…I?” the man asked weakly, his voice hoarse from all the screaming he had done during the torture.

“In the hospital wing of the compound.” She saw his confusion and explained further, “This is the main holding building for the slaves who work in the capital city. Here,” she held out a glass of water for him to drink.

He eyed her for a while, his one good eye narrowing as he saw her white coat, clearly categorizing her as threat. Flashes of the little amount Logan had told him of the experiments done on him made Scott repress a shiver as images of pain as hot as pokers ran through his mind.

“Who are you?” he asked suspiciously, not taking the offered water even though he clearly wanted to; his entire body seemed to scream with its need for the nourishment.

“For pity’s sake!” Cecilia made an irritated gesture at the man’s distrust, though she couldn’t really blame him. “Look, I’m the woman who saved your ass. Now drink!” She held the glass to his lips and this time he drank but she wasn’t sure if it was because he had believed her or because his mind had finally lost the battle against his body’s needs.

“Feel better?” she asked, her voice gentle now as she took the glass away. He couldn’t have too much water all at once and she watched as his eyes followed the water longingly.

“Yes,” he answered simply and Cecilia couldn’t hold back a smile. Anyone who had taken a beating like that was never fine. She suspected him of having some kind of military experience or living a life were he had found it safest to not show weakness of any kind.

“Let me take a look at your eye.” Cecilia took off the bandage she had made around his right eye. It had been a blooded wound so she had given him a compress. She had also stitched his wound in his side, and a few other deeper wounds that looked like they had been made by a knife. “Yes, it looks like it’ll heal nicely.”

“When…will my eyesight return?” His voice was even but she heard the fear in it. She drew back a little so he could see her in profile with his left eye. Telling bad news had always been what she hated most about this job.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t save your eyesight on your right eye.” She saw his face fall and a tear threatened to roll down his cheek. After everything he had been through that simple statement of fact, something he had lost and could never regain, suddenly made his ordeal so much more real, so much more life altering. “I truly am sorry,” Cecilia repeated before turning to go.

“Wait…I…” He wasn’t quite sure what to say but she had been kind to him, honest and one never knew when a friend was needed. It didn’t mean he trusted her but there was no need to make enemies. Besides, her collar labelled her a mutant and even if she had been made to work for the captors he had hope that if push came to shove she would remember whom she had been. “Thank you.” The man’s voice was low and she knew that edge in it. That, ‘I’m losing my dream, I’m breaking down,’ that she had heard so many times. But this man was still different. He was strong. She hoped he’d pull through mentally. It meant a lot in a place like this.

“You’re welcome. By the way, I’m Cecilia Reyes. Everyone calls me Dr. Cecilia. I take care of the mutants here.” She gave him a kind smile before going towards a new bed and a new patient.

“Dr. Cecilia?” She turned to look at him, “I’m…” he debated with himself for half a second but quickly decided that if they hadn’t ID’d him he wouldn’t help them, “Cyclops and I thank you.”

She smiled again. Yes, definitely military. He didn’t trust her yet so he had given a codename with which she could find him if she needed to, but only because he thought he might need her more. An…interesting man to say the least.

Cecilia didn’t have much more time to spend with Cyclops. She prepared him for Black Thunder but had a lot of work to do as she was always understaffed. Cyclops was left to observe the workings of the hospital. From the pained gaze she saw in his left eye when she caught his stare, he was also left to fight his inner demons, fighting to repress the memories of his torture, fighting not to dwell over the loss of his sight in his right eye.

Some time after noon she spotted Black Thunder walk through the doors to the hospital wing and his eyes locked with hers.

“Medicine Woman, I’m here to pick up the man I brought in,” Black Thunder said as he walked through the hospital, either not noticing or ignoring how most of the patients flinched away from him, having all too often been escorted to or from punishment by him or having seen him hand out punishment or orders of such. He walked straight towards her, the honourable name he had given her made his strong demand seem softer.

“He is here,” Cecilia replied and waved him towards Cyclops. He now sat in a chair, dressed in an old t-shirt, which had once been white, and a pair of old blue jeans, the faint trace of old blood on them bearing evidence to the fact that they had been used before. However, all the clothes were clean; Cecilia made cleanliness a high priority in her hospital. 

“Black Thunder, this is Cyclops,” Cecilia introduced with a smile as Cyclops got to his feet, trying to conceal a flicker of pain that any movement of his body brought him. Black Thunder gave her **that** look meant to melt iron but Cecilia ignored him and continued in a teasing tone. “Now, play nice, boys. Seeing as you went to all the trouble of saving him and giving him to me to patch up, Thunder, it wouldn’t be fair to undo all my work now that he’s awake.” Scott made a surprised sound and looked disbelievingly at her while Black Thunder gave her an annoyed look.

“I did not ‘save’ him. I merely followed orders,” he said tonelessly, leaving Scott unsure about what to think about all this.

Cecilia’s smile widened. “I don’t give up that easily,” she insisted, referring to her fight in finding something good in Black Thunder. He merely looked at her. She noticed movement at the entrance to the hospital and her smile faded as she added, “I see I have new customers.” With that Cecilia left the two men to just stare at each other for a while as she went to receive new patients and give out orders to her assistants on what to do, who to let die, because she didn’t have enough equipment to heal them, and who to try and work on.

“Come with me,” Black Thunder said and turned his back at Cyclops, walking towards the exit, expecting the man to follow. Seeing his chance Cyclops leapt forward to jump him even though he was still weak. His injures was his undoing as Black Thunder quickly turned around, and Cyclops collided with his fist instead of his planned attack on the other man’s back and he landed on the floor with a painful sound.

“Never attack a man from behind. It is unworthy of a true warrior,” Black Thunder said, his voice even and controlled, making the words come as a simple statement of fact, a fact Scott was sure Black Thunder didn’t live by himself, not anymore at least or he wouldn’t still be alive. The teaching words spoken in that almost whisper voice he had made Scott want to strangle him. Smug bastard, Scott thought darkly. How dare he speak of warriors and honour anyway when he was helping slavers and torturing innocent people? He might believe in his head that he was better than their captors but Scott didn’t see that.

Scott rubbed his neck at the pain of his impact with the hard floor. As weak as he still was, anyone could probably have taken him down yet any shot at freedom was worth a try. Black Thunder stretched a hand forth to offer Cyclops his help to get up and, with a moment’s hesitation, Cyclops accepted his help, letting the stranger draw him up. He was still weak and he would only hurt himself if he had refused the man’s help. Logic was the key to getting out, not pride.

They walked out the hospital and down the hallway side by side in silence. Cyclops looked at the cells and doors, trying to figure out if there was any means of escape. He was surprised Black Thunder hadn’t put him in irons but then he guessed he didn’t need to. As weak as he was and with guards coming and going all over the place, not to mention that he had no idea where to run if he did manage to shake his mutant guard meant that his safest bet for escape was to wait for a chance at a later time.

“Don’t. I’ll be forced to kill you and I would rather avoid that,” Black Thunder warned as he saw Cyclops’s good eye follow the men coming and going from the doors and hallways with a longing look. Cyclops got an angry gleam in his eye, more because he had been figured out so easily than anything else.

“You’re a mutant,” Cyclops said and nodded to Black Thunder’s collar, “Why do you help them?” His voice held anger, disbelief and confusion. Black Thunder didn’t strike him as a man who found pleasure in other’s pain, yet he wasn’t exactly working for the side of the angels here.

“I have my reasons,” he merely responded but not before Cyclops saw the flicker of pain in his eyes. He hadn’t had an easy life, the scars on his body bearing clear evidence to that, yet still it confused Scott that the man still worked for their captors, especially as he was sure they had been the ones to scar him in more ways than one to begin with.

“Scott!” Jean cried, tears of happiness running down her cheeks as she saw her husband coming towards her down the hallway. All the X-Men gathered to greet him as he drew closer.

“Holy shit,” Bobby spat as he saw in what condition Scott had returned. He was covered in bandages and had a big red welt on his face that would surely leave a scar and his right eye stared unseeingly at them.

“I’ll kill you, mother fucker,” Logan cried in fury at Black thunder as he and Scott stood just outside the force field. Logan forced himself not to pop his claws, though, as his threat wouldn’t work so well if he was passed out from the agony he felt whenever he tried to do that. Guards passing in the hallway looked after them, making any attempts for Scott to try and knock Black Thunder out to keep the force field open impossible. Not to add that he was still weak and Black Thunder seemed to be in excellent physical condition.

“I can give you two hours. No more,” Black Thunder warned, as he got ready to reunite Scott with Jean. Keeping a sharp eye on Logan, his greatest threat, Black Thunder pushed Scott into Jean’s waiting arms and the force field fell back into place before Logan could do more than make the slightest movement towards him.

“What happens in two hours?” Xavier asked from his position on the floor, having waved off his students attempt to get him to rise. Scott seemed oblivious to the question as he buried himself in Jean’s embrace, getting lost in her face, her hair and her beauty.

“Then the captain who was here earlier will return,” Black Thunder said but even that dark prospect for the near future didn’t lessen the X-Men’s happiness at Scott’s return. Black Thunder saw the man, Cyclops, kiss his woman, holding her close, stroking her hair and whispering words of love and comfort to her as tears stained both their cheeks. The scene bought back memories of Equalia and Pelan or Silver Moon and Star Child as the Native Ghenoshan names translated into, that he’d hoped he had forgotten. Love, blood, pain and betrayal all rolled into one as his memories threatened to consume him. Quickly, he left the X-Men’s cell to escape those memories, yet their happy words and laughter filled the dark and cold hallways and was on the edge of driving him insane. Finally he escaped back into the hospital and for a moment in time he sought comfort in Cecilia’s arms.

She didn’t know why he had returned. Or why he was looking so lost, but without a moment’s hesitation she gathered him in her embrace and, after a brief moment where he had been stiff as a statue, he had closed his arms around her and held her close. She didn’t know what kind of demons he was running from but she still stroked his hair as a mother would for a sick child. She mumbled words of comfort and compassion, the first he had heard for more than five years. He didn’t cry, not one tear fell from his eyes, yet Cecilia could feel his pain in all he didn’t say. It felt like hours, but it had only been minutes before he let her go from the bear hug, iron like grip, he had had her in.

He wiped some lose hair behind her ear and whispered,“Thanks, Medicine Woman, but this is one soul even your healing hands can’t mend.” He gave her a strange half smile as if he saw irony in the statement, before he turned around and was gone.

Cecilia looked after him for a few seconds. Of all her returning patients, he had always worried her the most even though he never had any permanent damage. Not even like what they had done to Cyclops with his eye. For normal mutant slaves “no permanent damage” meant only that they should be capable of working and that was all. It was possible to work with only one ear, without a nose or with only one eye. The guards never ceased to amaze her with their cruel ingenuity. But still…she looked after Black Thunder as he walked down the hallway, alone, his back stiff and his head held high. Still, there was something about him that made her mark him as her most cruel case yet. Often she felt like he was forever in limbo: broken yet unbroken. She didn’t know all his secrets or all his demons but she did know that somewhere deep inside, there was a man who hurt like no other. Her lips curved in a bittersweet smile. Considering that Black Thunder gave her many a patient and was more often than not the reason for someone’s pain and suffering, something she always fought with him about, it was a strange statement, yet still she felt it was true. 


	13. A Moment Of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of love between Scott and Jean

## Chapter 13: A Moment Of Love

Jean let a finger gently trace the wound on Scott’s face, amazed that she managed to get her hand not to shake…not too badly, anyway. She really wanted to be strong for him but it was so hard. He looked so…fragile. She had never seen him like that before. Her heart ached for his pain and she wished she could hold him in her arms forever, never letting him go but keep him forever safe.

“Oh, love,” she whispered, pain and sorrow in her voice as tears fell down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

“Just hold me. For now, just hold me,” Scott pleaded and she pulled him even closer, her embrace gentle yet strong, careful not to bruise him or touch him more than with the lightest touch, afraid of what bruises his clothing hid.

“Are you alright?” Xavier asked with a worried tone as Jean had managed to manoeuvre Scott to sit on the floor with her and they were now buried in each other’s arms, merely enjoying each other’s nearness and reassuring each other that they were real and alive.

“I am now, ”Scott answered softly as he finally drew a little back from Jean, taking hold of her hand and giving her a soft, loving kiss.

“What did those bastards do to you?” Logan demanded to know, anger clear in his voice. Rogue went into his embrace to try and calm him down, but also to see if some of his strength couldn’t hold her up in this hard time.

“They asked me questions about the X-Men. Where they were, where our base of operations is…Things like that,” Scott’s voice held no emotions at all and that scared the others more than anything. They didn’t have to ask if he had said anything; the scars on his body spoke for themselves. As if knowing their thoughts he added, “They suddenly stopped interrogating me. I don’t know why. A little more and…” his voice died away but they all knew what he meant and what pain he must have been in to be so close to the edge. Embarrassment at this weakness coloured Scott’s cheeks but none of his friends held anything but compassion and sympathy in their eyes.

“Do you know what they’ll do to us now?” Peter asked and tried to make Kitty stop crying by holding her close to his chest.

“No, but I guess we are to work like the other slaves here,” Scott guessed. He didn’t even want to think the thought that maybe they weren’t through toying with them. He didn’t know why they had stopped his “interrogation”. A few hours longer and he’d have broken. He knew it and he was sure that both this Black Thunder character and the man he called captain knew it as well.

“Speaking of slaves…the man who brought you here. He was obviously a mutant, wearing a collar. Does he work for the captain?” Ororo asked as she recalled the man who had brought Scott back. There had been something in his eyes, something in his soul that had spoken to her. Like a memory from a dream she had once had of wild, open prairies and nature so fine it sung to her.

“Black Thunder? Yes, he does.”

“That double crossing Judas,” Jubilee spat furiously from her position on the floor. The pain in her broken leg was still strong, but thanks to Jean’s knowledge and ingenuity they had managed to give her a home made splint and to her luck it had been a clean break. Now if only she could get her hands on some painkillers…One look at John’s white face told her he felt the same way but neither of them wanted to mention their discomfort, knowing their friends couldn’t help them anyway.

“I never thought I’d say this but I agree with Jubii on this one,” Bobby said grimly but giving Jubilee a smile that spoke of his true concern for her.

“Why, that’s a first,” Jubilee said sarcastically but neither her nor Bobby’s words held any anger. On the contrary, they were the only ones left who still tried to lighten the mood a little and their banter was the one normal thing that could draw smiles from their friends even now.

“Why would he do such a thing?” Jean asked in confusion as she gave Scott’s hand a gentle squeeze, careful not to hold on to his hand too hard because of the bruises from the chains on his wrists, even though she wanted to hug him close and never let him out of her sight ever again.

“He didn’t seem like a evil man nor did he hold that look in his eyes as the guards did. The look of contempt and hatred,” Xavier mused.

“I don’t know why he works for them but he isn’t evil and I don’t think he even likes them. He saved me, even if he might not have meant to do so. He brought me to the hospital and let me stay there for the night,” Scott thought out loud, remembered the doctor and Thunder’s debate.

“You would be surprised how low a person can sink merely to stay alive,” Logan said darkly with a hint of pained knowledge in his voice.

“This could be a case of Stockholm Syndrome,” Jean mused and elaborated for the sake of the younger students, “It’s when a prisoner become attached to the captor. The prisoner relies on the captor for everything and ends up seeing just the fact that the captor lets him live as a kind gesture.”

“If that’s the case then he’s no use to us,” Logan added.

“I still think we might be able to use him to our advantage,” Ororo insisted. There was something about his eyes, those deep black eyes. It is said that the eyes are the window to the soul but Ororo refused to believe that the man, Black Thunder Scott had said his name was, had a soul as black as his eyes. 

“Maybe,” Scott agreed absently.

“We’ll need help to escape from here,” Xavier agreed.

“Or luck and a lot more information to work with than what we have now,” Bobby insisted, wanting to make the others feel like it wasn’t so hopeless.

“And where do we get information from? The guards or prisoners like this Black Thunder character…” Logan said softly and the conversation died away when all realized that if the guards or some of the mutants who worked for them could have been persuaded to turn on their leader, wouldn’t someone else already have done so?

Scott ignored the conversation and their problem for now, just wanting to enjoy this moment he had with Jean. He turned his full attention to her, his one eye running over her face, trying to burn every little detail into his mind with an almost painful intensity and fear for what would happen next.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered as he stroked her cheek. Jean smiled and let her fingers dance gently over the healing wounds on his face.

“So are you,” she said softly and he winced, trying to draw back from her but she wouldn’t let him. “You’ll always be as handsome as ever to me,” Jean insisted, guessing his thoughts and he smiled softly at her. She smiled back before she drew him into a kiss and the others knew that they had lost themselves in each other and their love once again.

“I love you so much. The thought of you brought me through this. That and nothing else,” Scott mumbled against her lips, wondering for the nth time how he ever got this lucky to get to have Jean in his life, heart and arms.

“I love you too. So very, very much,” the last of Jean’s words were muffled as Scott closed his lips over hers, tasting her, feeling her, marking her. Loving her for now and in all eternity.


	14. A Woman’s Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ororo makes a sacrifice

## Chapter 14: A Woman’s Sacrifice

Black Thunder entered the captain’s office almost two hours after he had brought Cyclops back to his cell.

“Yes, Michael?” the captain asked as he turned to look at him from the files he had been reading.

“You wanted to know when the leader of the X-Men, Cyclops,” his mind automatically supplied the name, “had been returned. He has been so now,” Black Thunder reported, standing at attention before the other man.

“Yes, I did ask for this information.” The captain’s eyes narrowed. “As I recall, I also asked for it as soon as possible. The guards on duty in the hallway reported that the X-Men leader has been in his cell for almost two hours now.”

“I had business elsewhere,” Black Thunder replied, the words rolling easily off his tongue. It wasn’t even a whole lie; he had had a lot to do.

The only sign of anger was the fire in his eyes as the captain stood up and drew closer to the other man and swiftly slapped him in the face, making Black Thunder’s head fly to the side. The mutant turned back and continued to look directly at the captain, nothing betraying his emotions as he wiped the blood from his broken lip where the captain’s only ring, a small silver wedding band with a silver eagle on top, had torn his flesh. The old wedding ring, given to him by his wife, was the only memory, the only thing the captain had kept from his days as a husband. Though he had forced himself to forget her, both the time they had shared as well as her death, he still wore her ring and probably always would.

“You disobeyed a direct order. You were to give me this information at once. You will take the full consequence of your actions,” the captain stated coldly as he turned away from him again, turning back to look at the papers at his desk. Disobedience had to be punished at once and severely. If he let this small oversight pass him by everyone would start disobeying orders and chaos would be the result. No, a strict discipline was the only answer. Michael was a good slave but even the slightest sign of disobedience in him had to be punished hard and at once to make sure he didn’t forget his place.

“I understand.” The voice was low and toneless as always.

“But that’ll have to wait.” For a while neither spoke as the captain tried to focus on the files on his desk. Finally the unspoken tension in the air between them became too much, and he turned back to look at Michael and something that could have been regret was in his eyes. “Why do you make me hurt you so?” the captain whispered softly, sounding truly puzzled. Black Thunder said nothing for there was nothing to be said. Shaking his head to clear it from thoughts and memories, the captain returned to his seat behind his desk and looked through the files he had been reading before, the X-Men’s files to be more precise. He forced his thoughts back to business; a much safer subject than his relationship, or lack thereof, with Michael.

“This leader of the X-Men, Cyclops or Scott Summers, he fascinates me. Do you think we could use him?”

Michael looked thoughtful for a while, having also read the files. “He has great mutant powers and a sharp military mind but…”

The captain gave him a piercing look. “But what?”

“He’d rather die than work for you,” Black Thunder said confidently.

The captain’s eyes narrowed. “That can be arranged.” The words were sharp and cold. It took a moment for his anger to fade and he read some lines in Scott’s file before he said, “He has friends, maybe even a woman. We could use them against him,” the captain continued.

“That’ll only buy time. He’ll never work efficiently; he’ll destroy anything he could get his hands on. He’ll have to be watched 24 hours a day and I don’t have the men to spare,” Black Thunder said, knowing guarding Cyclops would fall under his responsibilities.

“Given enough time as a prisoner or under interrogation, any man would do or be anything for me, anything.” There wasn’t any bragging in his voice, just a statement of fact. His voice grew a bit softer as he added, “He’ll even kill his own wife for me, isn’t that right, Michael?”

Black Thunder got a bitter taste in his mouth and fought the shame down. When he spoke his voice was devoid of emotions, “It is.”

“Hmm, but I believe you’re right. He’ll be a handful and at the moment we can’t spare men to guard him when we’re at the brink of war with the rebels and their Native allies.” The last was said with a meaningful look at Michael but the mutant’s face gave nothing away. “Anyway, we can always see how feisty he is in a few months and take it from there. Time is, after all, on our side here.” The captain looked through some of the other X-Men’s files.

“This one is interesting. Logan, also called Wolverine. Hmm, healing factor, metal skeleton, heightened senses, claws. The man is a living weapon!” the captain said, impressed.

“And totally uncontrollable. More beast than man in his actions,” Black Thunder warned, recalling Logan’s file. “The last time someone tried to use him, he blew up the laboratory in which he was held and killed everyone in his wake before he escaped. Of all of them he can withstand drugs, mind control and torture the best because he has already been there and beat it,” Black Thunder added.

The captain sighed, knowing he was right. “Another to think about in a few months then. Maybe we can use some of the others against him when he’s a bit more used to being a slave,” the captain said, knowing that at the moment they might be able to get Logan to do their bidding if they threatened one of the others but they would have the same problem as with Cyclops; he would have to be guarded 24/7. He looked further into the files.“This one is also a possibility. Ororo Munroe, Storm. With her on our side we could win the war. The Natives would probably think she was a Goddess and do whatever she says and then… we win!”

The captain looked excited at the prospect of ending the long and bloody conflict Genosha had been thrown into after the government had passed the new mutant and native laws, making many of the outcast groups band together to form an alliance: a strong band of rebels fighting for equal rights for all beings living on Genosha no matter race, genes, colour or anything else. If he could end the war once and for all, he would be saving a lot of lives on both sides and everything would fall into their predefined places as the Government won.

“True, but again she’ll have to be guarded 24 hours a day and if she’s to be totally loyal to you, to this cause, she has to betray her friends…it’ll take years. If her collar is removed now, she’ll kill anyone in her way to free her friends. She can’t be trusted that quickly even if we started brainwashing her now.” Black Thunder wasn’t sure the beautiful black woman had or would ever take a life, but in a desperate situation anyone would do anything to survive. Wouldn’t they? Or was it just his mind rationalising his own decisions? He shook his head, refusing to think more about it.

The captain closed the X-Men’s files and stood up, a look of irritation on his face. He had really wanted his little clean and easy end of the war.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you are trying to keep them away from me.” His voice was almost pleasant, making it all the more deadly.

“No, captain. I’m merely doing as I’m told; telling you what I see. Those three will be great assets but it’ll take years to convert them and more manpower than we can presently spare,” Black Thunder said honestly, not really trying to hinder the captain’s plans but not trying to make them work either.

The captain smiled, his irritation melting away. “True,” he said and walked around his desk. “Come with me,” he ordered as he went past him and Black Thunder followed him out of his office where five of the captain’s guards joined them. They walked through the hallway until they stood in front of the force field separating the X-Men from the hallway.

“What the fuck do you want now, you sick bastard?” Logan growled and so wished he had something to back his threatening behaviour up with. His hands were itching to show claws but he knew by now what a bad idea that was.

“Logan, no,” Scott warned but too late. The control was in the captain’s hands yet again and Jean instinctually moved closer to Scott as he and the others had gotten to their feet to face their captors.

“I have grown tired of your ill manners,” the captain stated without any real heat and with that he pushed a button on his control.

“Noooo!” Rogue cried and tried to catch Logan as he fell towards the floor in agony, but he was too heavy for her to hold.

“Stop it,” Scott demanded as Logan lay on the floor withering in agony as his entire nervous system felt like it was on fire. He bit his lip till it bled from preventing from screaming. No way in hell was he giving the bastard that satisfaction. No way!

“Logan. Oh God. Please stop,” Rogue cried as she kneeled beside Logan, unable to do anything to ease his agony. She tried to take his hand to try and somehow ease his pain but he rolled up in a ball, trying to escape a pain that he couldn’t fight.

“You are a brave man, Logan. However it can’t help you now,” the captain said and pushed a new button. The intensity of the attack strengthened and this time a yell of pure agony did escape Logan’s lips as the last of his shattered control faded away.

“For Christ’s sake, stop this!” Scott demanded, feeling so helpless. He knew the pain Logan was going through and he never wished anyone to feel that way, yet he couldn’t do anything to prevent it.

“Captain, may I remind you that you have a scheduled meeting with general McLain today at five?” Black Thunder’s emotionless voice broke through the noise of Logan’s screams, Rogue’s cries and his team mates’ threats, demands and even pleas from Kitty. He sounded for all the world like he was watching a soccer game and had just commented on the fine pass a player had delivered.

“You are quite right,” the captain nodded his agreement with his calm words as he pushed a new button and Logan was finally freed and the screams stopped.

“Logan,” Rogue cried, tears staining her cheeks as she laid his head in her lap. He had lost consciousness and a part of her was glad for that meant he didn’t feel any more pain. She stroked his hair gently and bent down and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

“You, slaves,” the captain began, “will work from tomorrow on like all others. The healthy men will go to the mines. The injured will go to sickbay and then return to work. Long-term damaged goods will work here, in this building. The presidential palace is nearby and they always need extra hands in the kitchen and with the cleaning and they want slaves who look healthy and are a treat for the eye. Those I can use will stay here to work with our facilities. Is this understood?” He looked around at the mutants.

“We understand,” Scott answered for them all. They couldn’t risk more getting hurt. What did they take them for anyway? Stupid three-year-old kids? Or most likely not even kids, not humans at all, Scott thought, annoyed, anger growing inside him.

“Good. Now…” The captain studied a hand held panel with writing on it. He looked at the mutants in the cell again “Jubilation and John will be taken to sick bay and will work in this building until their injuries heal.” He turned to Black Thunder. “Michael, find something useful for them to do.”

“Yes,” he acknowledged simply.

“Logan, Peter, Robert, Remy and Scott will be taken to the mines starting tomorrow. I know of your teamwork so you’ll work alone, and as long as you fulfil your quota you can do what you want out there. Remember, of course, that you will be under surveillance by guards. Attempting to escape equals instant termination,” he warned as he already predicted trouble with this group.

“Logan has been injured. He should go to sickbay,” Scott argued. He wasn’t surprised that the man knew their real names nor that he used them. He had simply to check their picture with any kind of photo ID in the US to get that information, now that they were powerless and out of costume. Furthermore, by calling them by their first name he reduced their status. Codenames were for their powered identity and last names were to indicate they were to be given the same hospitality as any human. To use their first name was also like an insult; as if they were friends when they were enemies. But again, in the captain’s eyes, they probably weren’t human.

“He will recover during the night. By tomorrow he will be quite capable of joining you in the mines,” the captain declared with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“What of the professor?” Scott asked, noticing that he hadn’t been mentioned and knew it was a bad sign.

“He can’t work in the mines. I have no use for him. By sunset he will he terminated.”

“No!” Jean protested, fear in her voice for Xavier.

“You have no right to control life and death,” Ororo said calmly, trying to reason with him.

“Don’t…” Scott began but Xavier caught his hand with his own, holding it for a short while. He still sat on the floor, the only one as Bobby had ignored Jubilee’s protests and had lifted her up in his arms. Jubilee’s face was a grimace as she tried to fight the pain her broken leg gave her. John too looked strained but he didn’t say a word. What would it help anyway?

“There is nothing you can do,” Xavier told him gently. He didn’t want Scott, didn’t want any of his students, of his X-Men, to suffer because of him.

“The professor could prove valuable to you,” Black Thunder spoke softly to the captain, his eyes having followed the display of emotions in the slaves but he had shown no reaction to it.

“I don’t see how but by all means; enlighten me.”

“We could always use him in sickbay. Dr. Cecilia is doing it all alone and there is a lot to be done,” Black Thunder argued but his voice didn’t betray if he cared at all about the fate of the man whom he spoke of.

“Hmm, I don’t know. His files didn’t mention that he was a physician. In fact, I think one of the women, Jean, is a doctor. I had planned to send her to sickbay,” the captain wondered out loud.

“She can always work somewhere else. The professor cannot walk and will only be useful to work where he can sit down. His files did say he has worked in hospitals before and that he has a doctorate in psychology,” Black Thunder reminded him evenly, stating facts and being careful not to make it sound like he was reproving the captain. Seeing recognition on the captain’s face he added, “You could always let him try it. If he doesn’t work enough to be worth keeping alive, you can always terminate him later and put the woman in his place.” He saw the captain’s look of interest at the idea of getting more working capacity and added, “I will keep close tabs on the man and terminate him myself if he’s a liability…if you so wish.”

“You’re some cold-hearted sons of bitches,” Jubilee mumbled as the X-Men stared on in shock while the professor’s life was debated like he was worth less than a dog. Luckily for her, her statement wasn’t loud enough to carry audibly to the men outside their cell.

“Very well. Should he prove useful, he can stay so we don’t loose so many slaves. Otherwise, he is out. I have no need for a mutant that can’t work,” the captain declared and all X-Men visibly relaxed.

“Thank God,” Kitty mumbled against Peter’s chest.

“Where was I? Oh, yes. The women.” The words had barely left his mouth before all men instantly took up a defensive position before the woman dear to their hearts. Bobby held Jubilee a little closer, Rogue squeezed Logan’s limp hand for comfort, Scott eased Jean behind him and Peter did likewise with Kitty, Remy went to Ororo and stood with her and John stood before Rogue, ready to protect her should the need arise though what good he could do in his present state was doubtful.

“You leave them alone,” Scott demanded.

“You should be thankful that I’m in such a hurry, otherwise I would be forced to show you some manners, boy,” the captain said, his eyes narrowing, his temper on a short fuse because of his busy schedule and his plans that wouldn’t succeed.

“Scott, please,” Jean said softly and laid a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“The women will work as servants in the presidential palace. They are all quite beautiful and that’s what we need for those posts.” His glance swept over the women. “Tonight is our celebration of the President’s rise to power. My guards deserve a good time.”

Scott stiffened, as he knew where this discussion was heading and not liking it at all. “Lay one hand on Jean and I swear you’ll regret it,” Scott spat out, anger blazing in his eyes. Anger and an overshadowing concern.

The captain pretended not to have heard his outburst. He looked at the women and then at his panel with writing on it and then back to the women again, fitting name and photo to each woman. “Ororo, Jean, Katherine and Marie will come with me for tonight. Jubilation will do no good because of her injury,” he demanded and waved the guards over to get ready to open the force shield.

“Captain, I think one of these women will be sufficient,” Black Thunder broke in, his eyes gazing at the women. The black woman with the white hair, the one the captain had called Ororo, there was something about her. She awoke feelings in him that he thought he had long since buried. It was more than her beauty because all the women were beautiful. She had a grace and bearing about her that reminded him of his people…maybe even a bit of how his mother had been once; proud, regal, gentle yet strong.

“Why?” the captain asked sharply, irritated at this added delay. He frankly didn’t care what happened to the women or how many women the guards got just as long as his compound ran smoothly.

“Too much pleasure and you’ll never get them back to work again. They will get demanding. Besides, there are going to be other women. Humans as well as slaves more…willing than I’m sure they’ll find these.” With a nod he indicated the women in the cell before them.

“Some like the fight but I see your point. However, my soldiers need entertainment, any kind of entertainment, for the evening.” The captain made a gesture to say that he didn’t see any other way. He didn’t like men forcing themselves on women, not even mutant women, but he saw no other way. His soldiers were soon to go to battle against the rebel army and he needed their loyalty. Like Caesar before him, the captain felt that bread and circus were the best means to keep the masses content.

“Then let them take me,” Black Thunder offered as emotionlessly as if he always offered his life on a silver plate, which he never did. Looking out for number one was a rule he had lived by for a long time and it had kept him alive.

“You??? Why should I?” the captain asked, surprised. This wasn’t in the plan at all. He had counted on having Michael tag along to his meeting and have his input on different matters for most of the day.

“No one here exactly likes me. They’ll be happy to have a chance, one whole night, where your command of no harm coming to me unless you order it is disavowed. Besides, you did say I had punishment coming. Let this be it.” His voice wasn’t pleading, merely stating a suggestion. The captain saw the looks of hatred, contempt and joy at the prospect at being able to hurt Black Thunder in any way that his guards gave the man. Sick bastards, all of them, the captain thought darkly. But favouritism always had a price, usually a high one.

“Very well, but…” he agreed, knowing that Michael would probably prefer having his punishment over with instead of waiting for it. He looked sternly at his guards, “He is not to be permanently damaged and I mean that literally. All his limbs will work come sunlight and he’ll have lost none of his senses, you got that?” His voice was calm but held an edge of steel.

“Yes, Sir,” the guards chorused. The captain’s eyes narrowed as he saw the intense hatred in the guards’ eyes.

“If he dies, you die,” he promised and the guards nodded understanding, knowing he meant it. “Furthermore, at first light the chain of command and punishment is re-established as always on this night. One drink after sunrise, one drunk guard, one undisciplined punishment and it is instant termination, understood?” The captain didn’t like this one night of disorder in his compound but he knew he needed it to keep his guards happy. However, come sunrise he would have order again.

“Yes, Sir,” the guards again chorused.

“Good, now back to the matter at hand.” The captain looked at the women in front of him again. “One of you come to the force field now. The others can stay. I don’t care which one but decide now!” the captain demanded, losing his patience. He was running late and he knew how the general hated that. If he didn’t leave soon he would end up being disciplined for his laziness and disrespect towards his commanding officer.

No sooner had he spoken than Ororo slipped past Remy and waved her hand to make him notice her. He opened the force shield and she quickly stepped through before it fell back in place.

“Stormy, no!” Remy cried and ran after her only to run into the force shield as he tried to grab her arm and he landed on his butt by the far wall with a strangled cry of pain.

”Ororo, what are you doing?” Scott asked, a look of pain on his face as she was handcuffed by one of the guards, her eyes meeting his.

“This was the best option. The others are just children and Jean just got you back. Scott, I’m second in command after you. It is my responsibility to see the others safe.” Her voice was strong even though she knew what lay ahead of her in the night to come. In her thoughts she tried to convince herself of the necessity of her actions; the others were way too young and she was the only one without a lover to worry for her. It had to be her.

“Oh God, Ororo,” Jean cried as her friend was lead away. Cries, threats, curses and pleas could be heard down the hallway as the X-Men followed Ororo with their eyes as long as they could.

Black Thunder followed after the captain and the guards. He hadn’t spoken a word but the woman’s actions, so unselfish, so pure, had him intrigued. He didn’t want to admit it but he had fought for her. It was her he hadn’t wanted to see hurt. It seemed that fate was always fighting against him; even when he broke all his rules he couldn’t make things right. Well, he should have this punishment anyway…It wasn’t like he had gallantly jumped to this woman’s rescue, he had merely suggested his punishment was pushed forward and that was all. Still, he had just made a deal he couldn’t break, a deal that could make this a very long and very, very painful night in more ways than one. He caught the woman’s eyes. He saw fear in them, yet she still managed a small smile for him as if to comfort and encourage him. He who was her enemy, he who had helped bring her here and who in some months from now would most likely be asked to assist the captain in breaking her so she could work for him against the rebels. Where did that bravado come from? She looked so fragile, yet she accepted her fate as a warrior. As the guards lead them both towards the main hall, Black Thunder found comfort in the fact that at least neither of them would have to face this alone. But then, just before they reached the main hall, the white-haired woman was lead away from him, into another room.

“Where are you taking her?” he asked, trying to keep his voice under control. Damn, he had worked so hard to bury his emotions yet one look from her eyes and he was falling apart. But this wasn’t the time or the place to do that. He needed to be strong now. He couldn’t afford to show weakness, to show compassion or anything else.

“You should rather worry about yourself, half-breed,” one of the guards spat and drew Black Thunder’s hands back, trying to handcuff them behind his back.

“No, I’ll walk by myself,” he declared and slipped out of the guard’s grip.

“Why you…” the guard began, enraged, his hand lifted for a strike which Black Thunder merely waited for, doing nothing to try and shield away or protect himself. However, before the strike could fall the captain caught the guard’s wrist and applied pressure to it, forcing his subordinate to lower his hand.

“That’s enough,” the captain said sharply, interrupting whatever insults the guard would have said before he let go of the guard’s wrist. “He’ll keep his word. Let him walk by himself,” the captain demanded, getting ready to leave the small group and head to the meeting he had with the general. He looked at Black Thunder for a second and a flicker of something that might or might not have been compassion flashed in his eyes, but then it was gone.

“Be in my office tomorrow at eight for instructions, Michael,” the captain demanded and then left. That meant that if the sun rose at the same time as yesterday he’d have some three hours to be patched up in. Black Thunder hoped Cecilia was up for a challenge for he knew the guards could be quite inventive as their hate for him was clear: a mutant half-breed who was outside the chain of command and yet still often had command over them. He, a mere slave, a half mutant – half Native had command over them: human, white soldiers, members of the clean and pure race, the superior race. The contempt, hate and jealously in their eyes promised that they’d do their best to use the few hours they had to make him feel the full sting of their negative emotions for him.

“Yes, captain,” Black Thunder simply acknowledged the captain’s order as he began to walk towards the main hall and the fate that awaited him. He remembered the courage he had read in the white-haired woman’s eyes and he drew on that. As most of the slaves here, he had lived through a life made up of pain and built in blood. He could survive this as well. He would get through it and he would be strong. He might not have his freedom but he had his pride. And holding on to that pride as if it was all he had left, which it was, he walked into the main hall and the arms of his enemies.


	15. Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Thunder is tortured

## Chapter 15: Torture

“Well, well. What have we here? If it isn’t Michael, the captain’s lapdog,” Mark snarled as he stopped Black Thunder as he came towards him, guards on either side of him. It was obvious Mark was still very pissed off that Black Thunder had decked him so easily to get Cyclops away from them earlier.

“Yeah, I hear he has abandoned you. For all of one night,” another soldier who stood near Mark said, his voice sounding rather drunk and the beer in his hand amplifying that.

“For tonight your ass is ours, half-breed,” another soldier said and the disgust in his voice didn’t sound promising. His words made Black Thunder shiver despite himself, and for a moment his calm threatened to fail as his mind remembered cruel hands on his body, forcing, touching…raping him. No! With a sharp shake of his head Black Thunder buried his memories and his fears deep inside and calmly walked to stand in the centre of the room, the tables in the big hall forming a half circle around him. The tables were heavily laden with food. Soldiers and guards were sitting, standing or laying all over the room, drinking, eating or taking some of the women away. Most of the women were human whores, hired for this evening. Some, however, were mutant slaves. Most of these women went with their captors willingly, having been promised some kind of payment.

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

“Kill him”

“Stupid mutant freak.”

Words and insults flew through the air and yet, Black Thunder stood perfectly still, knowing that getting upset about it wouldn’t do him any good.

“Quiet!” a voice yelled and silence fell over the room. Only the faint background music still played. Black Thunder followed him with his eyes as James, a young but mean tempered soldier who was the self-proclaimed leader of the soldiers and guards, came to him.

“He killed a friend of mine. He belongs to me,” someone demanded but a hard look from James’s steel grey eyes made him back down.

“We can’t kill him but we can make this fun,” he said with a leer. “But,” he warned, “this can’t get out of control. We’ll all be killed come morning if he’s not in one piece.” His gaze swept over his comrades, meeting their eyes to make sure they understood and didn’t let their anger and hate destroy everything. A few mumbled ‘yeses’ and nods said they had understood and the order in itself not to harm him only angered the soldiers even more.

“Let’s whip him.”

“Burn him.” 

“Beat him.”

Suggestions came from all across the room and the calm with which Black Thunder listened to them angered James. He smiled evilly at Black Thunder as he took the older man under the cheek and forced him to meet his eyes.

“Why not do them all? But first…let’s eat.” James walked towards the tables and seated himself in the middle like some old king. Reluctantly, all soldiers withdrew from Black Thunder, their eyes promising a very long night as they passed him. They all seated themselves at the tables, eating and drinking. Black Thunder stood in the middle of the room, trying to look less vulnerable than he knew he was, purposely letting his arms hang by his sides and not give in to the temptation to cross them over his chest in an old-age gesture of self-protection.

“For any good meal; you need entertainment,” Brian said with a laugh as he caught and held Black Thunder’s eyes. Got you now, his eyes seemed to say. “And we already got a dog to perform for us.” He nodded to Black Thunder and laugher ran through the room.

“Yes, dog, show us some tricks,” James agreed wickedly.

_I would rather die_ , Black Thunder thought but years of captivity had taught him to keep his lips sealed.

“I think our dog needs some persuasion,” James nodded to the four guards who stood a little away and on either side of Black Thunder. One of them unfolded a long black leather whip from his belt, making it crack against the floor. He smiled at Black Thunder as he disappeared behind him.

Think of the white-haired woman. Think of her courage, Black Thunder thought as he tried to prepare himself for what he knew was to come. He had tasted the whip many times, like almost all slaves had, his back bore evidence to the fact but he had never learned to overcome his fear for it. But unlike when he had been a child, he no longer showed his fear or suffering. It stayed inside. The first blow fell and the whip bit into his flesh. Black Thunder bit into his lip till it bled as he prepared for the next hit and the next. With agonizing slowness the guard drew the whip back only to slam it down on his back as hard as he could. He could feel the blood running warm down his back, staining his pants and he was suddenly happy that he, as unusual, hadn’t worn a shirt for then it would just have been ruined as well. He raised his eyes and met and held James’s as the next blow fell and then the next. Amusement settled over the crowd after the first few blows had fallen but as more and more were added and no sound came from Michael they lost interest.

“Enough,” James roared and the blows finally stopped. Black Thunder drew his breath in pained gasps. Twenty-six hits. Could have been worse. With time he had learned, like all the slaves who stayed alive long enough, to live with pain, accept it, push it to the back of his mind. His back hurt like hell and he wanted to ease his pain any way possible, and preferable sit down as well as his legs felt weak under him but he did nothing. He just tried to get his breathing and heart beat under control as he fought to stand tall and upright. His gaze maintained its contact with James.

“You’re doing this the wrong way,” Brian declared as he watched Black Thunder closely. There was nothing he wanted more than to rid Michael of that damn pride of his. It made anything they did to him look like a failure.

A young slave girl came and put a plate with meat on the table, next to his seat. Following a hunch he grabbed the girl and pulled her into his lap.

“Let me go,” she cried in fright and hit him in the chest but he merely laughed at her attempts at hurting him and drew her close. He watched Black Thunder’s reaction closely. Others would have missed it, but he saw a small fibre vibrate in the half-breed’s cheek. He forced his lips against hers and when he drew back, blood was on the girl’s lips from his brutal kiss. He stood up and drew her with him. He saw the small motion towards him that Black Thunder did before he could stop himself. Brian smiled. He seemed to have found his ace.

“I think I’ll take this little beauty back to my room.” He forced the girl’s face around and drew his knife. He enjoyed her look of horror as he let his knife dance over the skin on her cheek. “But she does seem a little reluctant. I may have to hurt her. A lot. I’m afraid there won’t be much left of her when I’m done.” The words weren’t spoken to anyone but Black Thunder.

The girl was very young, barely fourteen, and very frightened. She looked thin and weak. Not just physically but mentally as well. She wouldn’t survive a night with Brian’s sick games of pain. He would destroy her. Black Thunder’s conscience fought with his pride. Was her life really worth sacrificing for his pride? Yes, for without his pride he wouldn’t survive. No, it was only for one night and he’d find a way to get his revenge. And he knew most of the people in the room. Most were people who lived for orders; hatred and fear were all they knew. They didn’t want to play head games with him for long. They wanted to hurt him. Only James and Brian would be smart enough to figure out that he’d rather they tortured him till sunrise than humiliate him.

“Let her go,” Black Thunder demanded, his voice emotionless as always but his eyes showed his conflicting emotions, if only for a minute. He knew as soon as he had spoken the words that he had made his decision but he couldn’t let the child be raped. The humiliation and pain of rape was something he would never wish on anyone. Had he thought she could handle it he might have let it go, but it was clear to him that if he did not do something the child was literally going to be raped to death. She would die soon anyway, he could tell that she wasn’t strong enough to survive here and he didn’t mind her death, he was used to death, but he minded the thought of her going into death like that. Anything but that was okay with him; anything but that he could let go. 

“I want entertainment. What’ll I get in return?” Brian asked even though he knew the answer. This was a game and he was winning, finally.

“Let the girl go…” he began slowly, wondering grimly if he had not finally lost his mind. Definitely. Two offers from him that would help someone else and not himself; that was a record to be sure. It was all that woman’s fault, the white-haired woman. Before he had seen the purity of her soul in her eyes and the courage in her voice he wouldn’t have been so hasty to get into this kind of situations. It was a tough world where only the strong survived and the girl was dying anyway; his sacrifice wouldn’t really give her much but he knew that, even without the white-haired woman still lingering in his mind, he would never be able to let a child be raped to death if he could stop it. “...and I’ll do as you demand.” He forced the rest of words out, forced himself to finish his plea, cursing Mark for making him say the words when he knew what he would be offering, his pride for it was all he had left.

“Give me your word, half-breed. For tonight you’ll do anything…and I mean anything I ask of you.” Brian’s eyes were alight with joy at the prospect of the power he’d have over the man he despised so much.

“I….” The words got stuck in his throat. Damn him to hell, Black Thunder thought darkly as he forced the words out. “I give you my word.” That was that then. His word was given and now he couldn’t take it back. He shot the girl a dark look as if it was her fault. With a satisfied smile Brian released the girl and she ran to the safety of the kitchen, crying into her hands. 

“I see our dog has nothing to eat. We really should fix that,” Brian mocked. He took some bread from the table and walked around to come to stand before Black Thunder. Black eyes met and held hate filled green ones as Brian tore the bread to small pieces and let them fall to the ground between them. With an evil smile he then took his booted foot and stepped on the bread pieces. He took a step back.“Eat that,” he demanded.

Black Thunder looked furiously at him. White unmutated people; the race he had been told was the pure race, the superior race. He did not see a pure and superior race of people but people who he with years and bitter experience was sure must be born with a gene for cruelty. Not that he believed anymore but he couldn’t understand why The Great Spirit would make such people. His first instinct, his first thought was to deny it. To tell Brian that he could go to hell and that he’d personally see to it that Brian got there. But he couldn’t. He had given his word. He may have done a lot of wrong things in his life but he had never broken his word. Slowly, his pride rebelling, his spirit dying, he fell to his knees. He lifted his head to look at Brian, letting him see the hate and anger in his eyes as he did so.

“Keep your eyes lowered, dog. You forget your place. Tonight you’re just like all the rest; a slave to do what he is told and nothing else,” Brian hissed.

Black Thunder held his gaze for a while longer but then forced himself to lower his eyes. He forced his hands to move as they reached for the first piece of bread. A memory flickered before his eyes, long suppressed and denied. Now, he knew how Helian, or Brave Eagle as the Native name translated into, must have felt when it had been him on his knees and he didn’t like it. He almost had to do violence to himself to do it but he lifted the piece of bread in his hand and guided it to his mouth. He felt like killing somebody, preferable Brian but anyone would do. Right now he’d even kill himself for the stupidity of ever giving his word. What the fuck had he been thinking? He knew better than that. Knew better than to care. Quickly he put the bread in his mouth and swallowed it without tasting it. He quickly got up from the floor, wanting to put his humiliation behind him as soon as possible.

“I didn’t say you could get up,” Brian said and made a ‘tisk, tisk’ motion with his finger. Damn, that bastard was enjoying this. If looks could kill Brian would have been burned away as Black Thunder went down on his knees again. “Now, ask me if you can get up.”

Black Thunder’s head flew up at the words, hatred as bright as the sun burning in his unnaturally deep black eyes.

“Don’t ever look your master in the eyes,” Brian said with an evil laugh as he slapped him in the face and Black Thunder forced himself to lower his eyes to the floor.

“Can I get up now?” He asked and tried to ignore the foul taste pleading brought to his tongue. Oh, yeah, finding a way to kill Brian was definitely the top priority on his ‘to do’ list.

“You may,” Brian allowed graciously as if he had just given him a very high honour. 

Black Thunder got to his feet and saw six guards standing close to him.

“It’s our turn now,” one said and before Black Thunder knew what was happening, the man’s fist collided with his face. Blows began to rain down over him and he tried to block them with his hands but there were too many. He was forced to the ground and was kicked and stabbed at with sticks. He curled up in a ball in a failing attempt to protect himself. Above the intense pain and the guards’ words of insults he heard Brian’s laugher.

After what seemed like hours he finally, gratefully let unconsciousness envelope him and claim him as its own.


	16. Ororo’s Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ororo’s fate is revealed

## Chapter 16: Ororo’s Fate

“Come on, mutie. It ain’t no fun if you can’t feel it,” a drunken voice complained and the man it came from tried to deliver a kick to Black Thunder’s limp form on the floor but couldn’t aim due to all the alcohol in his blood, thus his foot shot past him.

“He’s out cold. You’ll get nothing out of him. Come, have another drink,” a new voice said and Black Thunder heard the sound of feet walking away from him over the floor. He lay perfectly still, pretending to be out of it to discourage anyone from trying anything. He guessed he had been awake for over an hour now. It had been hard to ignore the pain in his back and chest. He guessed he had at least a couple of broken ribs and his back felt like it was on fire. For that hour he had mostly been left alone, save a kick now and again. Apparently he had been unconscious for real for some time and they thought he was still out of it and he preferred to keep it that way.

“Hey, Brian, I thought you said this guy was tough,” another voice said and laughed.

“He is. I’m not so sure he’s really out…” Brian began and Black Thunder heard the sounds of feet coming closer.

_Go away, go away_ , Black Thunder wished before he could stop himself.

“Hey, Brian, come here,” someone called and Brian ceased his steps towards Black Thunder and walked the other way. Black Thunder felt relief as sweet as spring water wash over him.

Time seemed to lose its meaning as he only waited for the first rays of sun to shine. Finally, he heard the call he had been waiting for over the loud speakers in the room: “As of now, the sun has risen. All men return to their posts.”

Black Thunder could have cheered. Finally, it was over. He opened his eyes and carefully stood up as his back was complaining loudly over the mistreatment it had been given. Soldiers and guards ran around in the room, moving away the tables, chairs and other things. He couldn’t see Brian or James anywhere. Well, he’d run into them soon enough and then he’d initiate some sweet revenge. The dark thought made it easier to fight the waves of pain that ran through him. He walked very slowly, out of respect for the guards’ handiwork, out of the room and into the hallway. He checked his watch: 05:45. It gave him a little over two hours before he was to meet the captain. He was on his way to sickbay when his thoughts caught up with his actions. The woman, the white haired woman…She was here somewhere. He was torn between wanting to go look for her and just moving on. He couldn’t do anything for her and helping her would just put him in danger, as if this night hadn’t proven that already. Good deeds never went unpunished. Never. But even as he was arguing against it in his head, he found his feet carried him back toward the rooms he knew the soldiers used for…such activities.

_Oh, great. I truly have lost my mind_ , he thought darkly as he looked into the first room and found it empty save the big bed and bare walls. After having checked some ten rooms he was ready to give up. His back was killing him and time was running short. He needed to be in an acceptable condition when the captain saw him. She was just another female slave after all; he didn’t even know her. He wasn’t really sure why he kept looking: curiosity, concern or something more? Hadn’t he seen enough broken people? He didn’t need to see her as well. He wished to remember her as the beautiful, proud and regal Queen as she had been when she had calmly walked to her fate. He reached a new room and decided that this was to be the last one. As he laid his hand on the handle he heard mumbled words. From the strain of walking, his wounds on his back had reopened and blood was dripping down his legs and onto the floor _._

_I sure hope I’m not disturbing some general or something,_ Black Thunder thought as he turned the handle and walked in.

On the bed he saw her, the white-haired woman. Only now her hair wasn’t so white nor was it very beautiful. Her face was swollen from beatings, her left eye swollen shut and blood coming from her broken lip. Her once so long and beautiful hair had been rudely chopped off, leaving only small inches of white on the top of her head. Her arms were locked with handcuffs to the bed poll above her head. She was naked and cuts and bruises decorated her body, bleeding or already beginning to colour. But worst of all was her expression or what of it he could see from the beating she had gotten. Her face didn’t change, nor did her eyes. They just stared straight up at the ceiling, unblinking, but he could see the intense hatred in them. A guard had been lying on top of her, wearing only jeans, which he tried to undo in his drunken state. He had heard Black Thunder open the door and turned towards him.

“What the fuck are you doing here? She’s mine. You can have her when I’m finished,” the guard said with a stupid grin and turned back towards the white haired woman.

“That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Black Thunder answered in his most emotionless voice as if commenting on the weather, fighting not to let the scene get to him. Memories of that feeling of helplessness…of another time, another guard, himself lying naked and defenceless and…He again forced the memories down. He didn’t want to remember.

“Hmm?” The guard turned back towards him with a puzzled look at his strange reply and Black Thunder hit him in the face, sending him to the floor where he stayed down, his head resting against the wall. As he was sure the guard wasn’t getting up just yet, he went to the bed and kneeled beside the woman, making sure she could see him if she wanted to turn her face to look at him.

“I won’t hurt you,” he whispered but when she didn’t respond he reached up and undid the cuffs, having taken the key from the now unconscious guard. She didn’t even take her hands down. Must be in shock, he decided. He didn’t know why and afterwards he would never be able to explain it but he had this feeling like he needed to fix her, repair her. He wanted the proud woman he had seen earlier back. He couldn’t have her broken. He knew he was over identifying with her, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to see that someone could get past this, that it was possible to get past it.

“I’m going to take you somewhere safe where no one will ever hurt you,” he promised, not really considering what that meant but acting on pure instinct. He looked for something to cover her with and took one of the sheets, covering her naked and abused form with it. He then lifted her up in his arms and carried her out of the room, ignoring the painful complaints his body was making over this course of action.

“Hey, what are you doing?” a guard asked and ran after him. Black Thunder stopped, pressing the woman close to his chest. He searched for signs of life in her eyes, signs that would show that she was aware of her surroundings but she didn’t even blink. What the hell had those bastards done to her?

“I’m on my way to sickbay with this woman,” Black Thunder explained as the guard reached him.

“Sickbay? But that’s not in that direction. What do you…” He never got to say the rest as Black Thunder lashed out and kicked him in the balls, sending him to his knees, then delivered a kick to his head, sending the man to dream world. He had a hard time maintaining his hold on Ororo as he did so; she was slipping from his grip and did nothing to hold onto him. Finally, when the guard went down, he managed to get a better hold on her again. 

He hurried through the hallway, avoiding the other guards. He reached the end of the hallway where his room was. With difficulty he succeeded in opening the door and he placed the woman on his bed and hurried to close the door again. Now what? He wondered. This hadn’t exactly been planned. His room was small, only a bedroom and a bathroom. There was nothing on the walls and the room was very similar to the cell the woman had been held in before. Black Thunder went to her and took away the sheet with gentle hands. She still looked at the ceiling, lost in her own world.

“Stay here,” he whispered though he doubted such an order would be necessary in her present condition. He went to the bathroom and turned on the hot water, filling the tub. He rarely had hot water and his bathroom was old and ugly but it served its purpose. Today, however, things finally seemed to be going his way as the water stayed hot until he turned it off. He returned to the bedroom and lifted the woman up into his arms and carefully placed her in the tub. He took a washing cloth and began to wash her arms, shoulders and face. He was sure that the cuts on her chest and thighs should be washed more thoroughly but he decided against it, afraid of her reaction if he touched her there. He looked into her eyes and they still looked lost. He got no reaction from her at all. Now he was beginning to worry. If he couldn’t wake her, he had to give her to Cecilia for he didn’t have any means of forcing nourishment into a more or less comatose patient.

“Wake up,” he demanded harshly but got no reply. What was it the captain had called her? Ororo? Yet the boy in her cell had called her something else. A nickname, maybe? Stormy? Storm? He decided on the nickname, thinking she’d respond to its familiarity.

“Storm, I need you to wake up. Right now. No one here will hurt you,” he said softly but she didn’t seem to understand him.

“I’m sorry about this,” he mumbled and raised his hand, not sure what else to do. A loud smack was heard as his hand made contact with her cheek.

“Wake up. Come on, Storm. Wake up. I know you can do it. Don’t let them win,” Black Thunder said sharply and continued to strike her, her head flying to the side. As he raised his hand for yet another blow her hand suddenly shot forth and caught it, holding it away from her red and abused cheek.

“Enough,” she rasped and Black Thunder could have cheered even though her voice was weak. Her physical injuries weren’t extensive and now that she seemed to come out of it and what they had done to her…She might pull through…she had to. Though awake, her eyes still held a far away look and she let him finish washing her without as much as a flinch. He lifted her weak body from the tub and quickly dried her. He found a loose, big white t-shirt in his drawers and he placed it over her head and helped her into it before carrying her back to bed. She hadn’t spoken but now he could feel her glance on him whenever he moved. Recognition was finally settling in and now her look was a look filled with mistrust, disbelief, fear and very much hate. He placed her on the bed and before she had time to know what was happening he had cuffed her right hand to the pole of the bed. She stared with murder in her eyes at him, making his lips curve a little; anger and hate were much better than the unresponsive state she had been in before.

“I’m sorry but I can’t have you running out in the hallway,” he moved to the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Try and get some sleep.” With that he exited the room.

He walked down the corridor with fast steps and found the guard he had knocked out in the hallway still down. He called some soldiers over and told them to carry the guard to the interrogation block. He did the same with the guard in the room where the woman had been. As he waited for the two men to wake up, he paid a quick visit to Cecilia and washed, got bandaged and changed from his bloodied clothes to a black vest and leather pants to cover his bandages. Despite Cecilia’s wishes for him to remain a little longer in sickbay, he quickly left and went to the interrogation block.

“Michael. You brought the two guards in?” a woman who worked in the interrogation centre asked.

“Yes.”

“The charges?” she inquired and stood ready with a piece of paper and a pencil to write it down.

“The one you picked up in room eight hadn’t returned to duty on time and was unconscious when I found him, probably from drinking. The other was late as well,” Black Thunder said and moved past her, going towards the room the guards were held in.

“They will be terminated then after standard questioning,” she said and disappeared to tell her superiors of this. Seeing his chance, Black Thunder entered the room. It was a big, round room with two exits and both men were hanging from the roof in chains. The sight brought some unpleasant memories back but he pushed them away. There was no time for that now. He walked over to stand before the nearest one: the man who had stopped him when he had been carrying the white haired woman.

“You know what will happen now.” His voice was even as always, sounding almost pleasant. The man was scared stiff and couldn’t even get one word out. He merely nodded. “What do you want now?” he inquired. ”You know what you are facing.”

“To…die,” the man rasped as he finally conquered his fear, knowing that he was facing a very painful and drawn out death as an example to warn others from failing in their duties.

“I can help you with that but then we are to make a deal,” Black Thunder began and moved closer to the guard. “You tell Dr. Sally when she comes to interrogate you that you saw your friend over here,” Black Thunder nodded towards the guard who had been about to rape Storm, ”kill the white haired mutant in a fit of rage. You fought a little about the mess he had made and you accidentally knocked him unconscious. However, being friends and fearing a dead slave would give you trouble you disposed of the body by dumping it into the slave crematorium. You saw it go up in flames yourself before you went back to duty.”

“But I saw her. With you,” the man protested weakly. Thunder’s eyes narrowed.

“I can make sure you get a very long and agonizing death or…I can make it quick and painless. You decide,” Black Thunder said sharply and turned to go.

“I take your deal,” the other man said quickly, afraid his ticket for a painless death would disappear on him. The corners of Black Thunder’s mouth moved up in what could have been a very small smile.

“Good, and you?” he turned to the first guard again. Out in the hall voices could be heard as Dr. Sally came closer with a posse who would help her in her interrogation.

“Yes, I take your deal,” the other man finally said as his fear won over his sense of loyalty.

“Good.”

Black Thunder took out a small box from his pants pocket and opened it. He put the two pills that laid inside in his hand. It had taken him forever and many favours, often unpleasant ones, to get his hands on the poisonous pills. He had saved them, one for himself and one for Cecilia, if the need should arise. However, the purpose of the pills had now changed and he had something else to add to his mental ‘to do’ list; get three new poisonous pills, adding Storm to his list of people who he’d want to be able to offer the chance of a painless death.

“Swallow this. Quickly,” he demanded and put a pill in each man’s mouth, which they swallowed.

“Will…” the first began.

“You’ll be dead within ten minutes.” Black Thunder’s eyes narrowed. “But if I hear you have betrayed me I’ll personally kill every last one of your blood relatives and then move on to any friends you may have had.”

The threat in his voice and eyes wasn’t easy to miss and both men nodded that they understood and accepted the terms of their death. When Dr. Sally opened the door Black Thunder had just managed to escape through the other door and out of the room. When the clock reached 08:00 hours, Black Thunder lay his hand on the door handle to the captain’s office and tried to get his quick breathing under control as well as the pain in his body. Then he opened the door and went in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last of this week's large update to cheer you all up during these hard times. Hope you enjoyed. Please leave kudos and comments if you are enjoying the story. It would mean a lot to me. Thanks


	17. Back To Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-men are put to work

## Chapter 17: Back To Work

“Michael,” the captain acknowledged as the younger man walked into his office, eight o’clock sharp.

“Captain,” Black Thunder said and stood before his desk.

“I trust you are…whole?” the captain asked, a faint note of what could have been concern in his voice.

“I am unhurt,” Black Thunder simply replied and tried to ignore the pain in his back and broken ribs. He could feel that the wounds had reopened, the warm blood running down his back.

“Good,” the word was a breath of mild relief. “Now, first of all I want you to get the new slaves… the X-Men started right away,” the captain said and looked through some papers. Damn government. Wanted papers on everything. Like a man’s word wasn’t enough?

“Yes, captain. There is a matter concerning the X-Men you need to be made aware of,” his voice was even and low as always.

“Oh? What?” the captain raised his head and looked at him.

“The white-haired woman, Ororo, died during the night. One of the guards killed her as she resisted too much.” The lie rolled off his tongue so easily, as if he was talking of a fact he’d swear the truth of.

“How disappointing,” the captain replied. He had really hoped she could be used to stop the fighting. “Oh, well. Things like that happen. I assume you have taken the necessary actions? I can’t have the guards killing slaves whenever they see fit.”

“The guard in question has been terminated.”

“Good.” The captain’s eyes returned to his papers. “Two soldiers, service numbers 234 and 543, were found drunk this morning. Deal with it after the affair with the slaves.”

“Yes, captain.”

“You may go,” the captain said with a dismissive gesture without even bothering to look at him.

Black Thunder turned on his heels and left. He walked down the hallway towards the X-Men’s cell. The captain had believed the white-haired woman was dead. So far, so good. Now her friends needed to believe the same. He hadn’t planned to hide or even help the woman so his plan wasn’t so sophisticated. If all believed her dead she could be with him and maybe, one day, he’d somehow manage to find a way out for them. A way to freedom!

As he neared the cell, he heard voices.

“Oh Scott, I can’t believe she did that. What if they hurt her?” a woman’s voice, soft and with a loving tone to the man she asked.

“It’ll be alright, love. Ororo is strong. She’ll pull through,” a man’s voice said, gentle and loving but with an inner strength speaking of years of leadership.

“Logan, it wasn’t your fault.” That voice was from a young female with a southern accent, warmth clear in her very low voice.

“It was, darlin’. I should have stopped it. I should have,” a strong voice growled, barely holding back an intense anger and hate.

All voices stopped as Black Thunder came within vision.

“What have you done to Ororo?” the leader, the one the red haired woman had called Scott, demanded to know. So, her name really was Ororo. Before the raise of the current Government Genosha had been an open and welcoming island, and one of his forefathers had taken an African bride. He had been told she had named one of her daughters Ororo in honour of the beauty she had found in her own life with her Native husband and his tribe. Beauty, what a fitting name for a woman like Ororo for she was indeed a woman who walked in beauty.

“If you have harmed one hair on her head, bub, I’ll kill you,” the man who had spoken earlier growled with murder in his eyes. Black Thunder was glad he was on the other side of the force field.

“Your friend passed away during the night,” Black Thunder calmly stated and he saw the sorrow in their faces. 

“Oh, my God,” Kitty whispered and Peter unsuccessfully tried to comfort her as she burst into tears.

“You lie!” Scott yelled angrily as tears threatened to fall. She couldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t accept that.

“Oh, Ororo,” Jean whispered and tears fell from her eyes. Ororo had been her best friend. More than that, she had been a sister.

“You son of a bitch. I’ll kill you,” Logan yelled and exploded in a fit of rage, throwing himself against the force shield.

“Logan, no!” Rogue yelled but too late. Logan was thrown into the back wall and fell to the floor. Rogue ran to him. “Sugah, are you alright?” she asked, full of concern as she reached for him.

“Yeah.” With difficulty he got back to his feet. The earlier night’s events hadn’t helped his nervous system and being thrown into walls wasn’t really a good idea just now.

“The following people are to go with these guards to the mines, ”Black Thunder pointed towards six guards waiting for orders. He noticed the look in Scott’s eyes. “Don’t try anything or they’ll use the collars on you.” Scott glared angrily at him for bringing that terrible means of control into the conversation.

“Scott, Logan, Peter, Remy and Robert step towards the force shield,” Black Thunder demanded. He saw the refusal in their eyes but only Logan voiced it.

“Like hell,” he growled. Black Thunder looked at Scott, hoping he could understand the situation. They couldn’t win.

“Step forth now or I will use the collars on you,” Black Thunder said matter-of-factly.

“Logan, don’t. There will be another time,” Scott said calmly to his comrade and, as he saw Logan’s almost invisible nod of agreement, he turned to Jean. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. It was becoming a habit for them to always say the words when they parted. In the life they led now, there was no room for tomorrows and maybes.

“I love you too. Come back to me,” she whispered and stroked his cheek.

“I will,” he promised, although he knew it was a promise that now lay outside of his control to fulfil. Giving her one last kiss, he walked towards the force shield and was quickly pulled through to the other side, the guards having their weapons aimed on the other X-Men but the shield fell back into place so quickly none had time to even consider reacting. Black Thunder saw the anger and sorrow in Scott’s eyes before he quickly covered his emotions and Black Thunder reached to cuff his hands behind his back. Both men turned to watch the other X-Men, Black Thunder willing to give the X-Men a few seconds to say their farewells. The first separation tended to be the hardest on the new slaves until they got used to the routines. Yet, for some reason Black Thunder had a feeling that these American mutants never would get used to being slaves. Most of the mutants who hadn’t held a Genoshian passport had either been killed or expedited when the new Government had closed the borders. He still clearly remembered the long lines there had been outside the foreign Embassies when mutants and many Natives had tried to gain safe passage away from a Genosha that had become a death sentence for them to stay in. He recalled that the UN had protested the new Government and their violent ways, but none had done anything expect pull out their own citizens and clear out their Embassies, leaving thousands of panicked and doomed Genoshians behind who had been forced to watch the last choppers and ships sail away. The lack of action from the world on behalf of the Genoshian Natives and mutants had left these two groups feeling bitter and abandoned. Since Genosha had no oil or other precious items, and neither had any powerful allies the world had let the island sink into a bloody civil war. The Genoshian mutants and the Natives of the island had banded together with a few other Genoshians who had seen the injustice of the new rule to form a rebel army yet their numbers were still very small. Fighting for the very right to live they had had to fight a war against the modern and heavily armed Government army they had known from the start they could not win against. The X-men would find themselves the only outlanders here and they would quickly find that their status as foreigners would gain them no sympathy from the other slaves since the world had granted them no sympathy when they had called for help. This distrust between the old slaves and the X-men together with the X-men’s stubborn inability to totally give up all thoughts of freedom could only mean one thing for Black Thunder; trouble.

Black Thunder’s dark thoughts were broken by the sound of Logan saying his farewell to Marie. “Marie, I…” Logan began and bent down to kiss her before he continued. Even now, in this terrible place, it still felt beyond wonderful to be able to kiss and touch her. If nothing else, they would have these moments of touch to hang on to. 

“No, don’t. Don’t say goodbye,” she whispered as they pulled apart and she put a finger on his lips to silence him before he had a chance to say the rest of what he wanted to say. A tear rolled down her cheek. Logan gently took her finger away from his mouth and wiped her tears away with his other hand. Acknowledging her request, he simply claimed her lips with his own once again, saying a world of words in a simple kiss.

“I’ll be back,” he promised and walked to the force shield. Standing between the guards on the other side of the fence just a few moments later, he gave Black Thunder a look that would have killed a lesser man. Black Thunder handcuffed Logan’s hands behind his back while the soldiers kept a keen eye on him, their weapons on him as well as a control for his collar handy.

“Kitten, I….” Peter said as he softly stroked her cheek, trying to gently break her iron-like embrace. The whole ordeal had been hard on her and she had clung to him as her only lifeboat. Even though he, at 18, was only 2 years older than she, he was mature for his age while she had always possessed an innocence and fragility which made her seem even younger than her 16 years.

“Don’t. Don’t go, Peter. I love you,” Kitty cried, her hands holding his shirt in an almost bruising grip.

“ _Dorogaya_ , I promise, I will be back. _Ya tebya lublju_ [Russian for 'I love you']” With that he bent down and kissed her before easing her out of his embrace, gently forcing her hands to let go of him.

“No!” Kitty yelled and made a grab for him as he walked to the force shield, tears staining her cheeks. Her breath came in hard gasps and she was almost hyperventilating, close to a panic attack.

“There, there, petite. All will be fine, you’ll see,” Remy said softly and placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. She tried to brush him off but he wouldn’t let her and instead took her into his embrace. She allowed it, seeking his strength while she watched Peter step through the force shield before it fell back in place.

Remy was torn between feeling sorry for Kitty’s pain and envying her that she had someone in her life that she could feel pain over. His eyes found Rogue. She stood by the far wall, tears in her eyes but also a strength he had not believed possible in such a fragile looking woman. She looked so beautiful and strong, yet so small. He longed to go to her and comfort her but he couldn’t. She was with Logan, she loved him and he knew it. His own feelings didn’t really matter. He would just have to try and live with loving from a distance but it was hard to be so close to happiness yet so endlessly far away from it.

Remy gently eased Kitty out of his embrace and, pushing her into Jean’s motherly arms, stepped towards the force shield. He was the only one with no one to say farewell to. Now even Stormy was gone. He had no one left and that thought stung more than any blow could have, making his eyes water and he had to fight the tears back.

“Well, I guess I better go,” Bobby said as he stood next to Jubilee, she sitting on the floor with her broken leg, her face very white from the pain.

“Yeah,” she admitted, conflicting feelings running through her. Bobby’s face fell at her lack of response. Since seeing the beautiful Asian girl for the first time, Bobby had fallen in love with her but she had made it clear that she wasn’t interested. He had tried making Jubilee jealous by showing Rogue some attention when she had first arrived at the school, like giving her an ice rose, but nothing had seemed to work. From time to time they would grow closer and they would share a look or moment that felt perfect, but then the moment was broken by either her or him saying something to cover their feelings, fearing the other would hurt them.

“Don’t start crying for me just yet, princess,” he said sarcastically and began to walk towards the force shield, as always covering hurt with anger and his quick and sarcastic wit.

“Bobby, wait!” Jubilee called. He turned around and looked at her, his heart beating faster in his chest. She wore the same clothes as she had been caught in, she was bruised and dirty but to him no woman could be prettier. “Come here,” she asked and he walked back to her. She grabbed hold of his jacket and pulled him down towards her. She gave him a quick kiss on the mouth before letting him up. She grinned as she saw Bobby’s red cheeks. “Don’t get any ideas,” she said with a smile as he walked towards the force shield again.

“Oh, I’ve got a lot of ideas, princess. Like you and me, moonlight and…” Bobby began with a smile, as he was ushered through the shield. He already had his hands behind his back so they could be handcuffed without him being told to put them that way. His smile remained and he winked at Jubilee.

“Why you…” Jubilee began in mock anger and playfully reached for him even though she of course couldn’t reach him. Through her tears Jean smiled at the pair. She knew both Jubilee and Bobby grieved for Ororo, as they all did, but they couldn’t handle it all right now. They needed that game of theirs to keep just a small part of what had been their normal life alive. They needed it to save their sanity. Jean looked after Scott, as he and the others were lead away.

“They will be back tonight. In fact, you’ll meet them for dinner at six o’clock in the big dining room,” Black Thunder said as he saw the women’s look of worry as the men disappeared from their vision.

“You will of course allow us to doubt your words,” Xavier said mildly and spoke up for the first time. He was well aware that he was a burden to their captors, and had thought it best to at least not anger them. 

“Of course,” Black Thunder answered, impressed by the professor’s calm. He turned towards the women. “Katherine, Marie and Jean will step forward and then these soldiers,” as he spoke five soldiers appeared, ”will take you to the palace where you will work. As I said, you will be returned here tonight.”

Xavier gave him a suspicious look, concern in his voice as he spoke. “Will they remain…unharmed?” None had to say what he was really asking; the thought of what Ororo had had to endure all went through their minds.

“As long as they work and do as they’re told no harm will befall them. The code of conduct does not allow guards and soldiers to punish the slaves in such a way without prior permission, and such will only be given as part of a interrogation session,” Black Thunder said evenly, trying to ignore the fear the women couldn’t quite force from their eyes despite their bravado.

“I have only your word for this,” Xavier said matter-of-factly. The professor’s calm gave Black Thunder an impression of great inner strength held within the physically broken body of the elderly man.

“True, but I have no reason to lie to you, slave.” The latter was not said as an insult but simply to remind the professor that in his present status lying to them about their fate would not be necessary.

“Point taken.” Xavier agreed, knowing just what Black Thunder was trying to convoy with his words.

“Come on, girls,” Jean said, strength in her voice as she wiped her tears away. Xavier’s conversation with Black Thunder had calmed some of her fears and she forced the rest of them under control. She was the oldest among the women who had been chosen; the others needed her to be strong. She gestured for Rogue to follow her towards the force shield. With Kitty still crying in her arms, Jean took them both through the force shield as soon as it was turned off. Then Rogue walked through after them. The force shield was turned back on as soon as Rogue was through.

“Jean…” the professor began, not knowing what to say, his throat choked with emotions at the thought of losing sight of the woman who was like a daughter to him. Despite being reassured by Black Thunder’s words, and the value he obviously put on keeping a calm and ordered relationship between slaves and keepers he was still worried. Unlike Black Thunder, who had never looked at any of the students with lust in his eyes the guards hadn’t been as controlled. Xavier didn’t trust them, at all, to follow whatever rules in regard to slaves that existed here and which Black Thunder seemed to obey by.

“It will be alright, Charles,” Jean said and forced a smile as they were led away.

“Kick their asses,” Jubilee yelled after them from her position on the floor and got a small noise of amusement from her three friends. Kitty looked back towards her and waved to her with tears in her eyes, but a small smile on her lips as she remembered happier times, before being forced to move on. 

“Okay, that leaves only you three: Charles, Jubilation and John,” Black Thunder said and let his gaze sweep over them, remembering their names from their files. Jubilee and Xavier sat on the floor by a wall while John stood up, cradling his broken arm and looking thoughtful. The boy wouldn’t be a problem. He seemed quiet and reserved. The girl, however, had a quick tongue and the guards had hot tempers and quick fists. The old man could be a problem as well as the guards would love to kick him around, especially when they discovered he was so helpless. Well, all in good time.

“Where are we to go?” Xavier asked as Black Thunder thought about options.

“The infirmary is still the best solution,” Black Thunder reasoned out loud. Cecilia could normally keep the guards out of the infirmary itself, they’d stay in the hallways just outside the entrances to the hospital wing. Black Thunder spotted three guards.

“You, come here,” he called and the guards reluctantly obeyed. He knew that if they had had anything to say in the matter, he’d have been tortured to death long ago but as things were they had no other choice than to obey, biting down their anger at being ordered about by a mutant slave who, even worse, was also a Native. As the guards stood behind him, Black Thunder disbanded the force shield and walked into the cell, the guards raising their weapons and the collar controller in case anyone tried something. He noticed the boy tense, instinctually raising his unhurt arm to strike and the girl did the same. Ignoring them he walked towards Xavier. The older man looked questioningly at him but with no fear in his eyes, and Black Thunder came to respect the man in that moment. To have such a will to live, to lead, to survive after all he had been through…remarkable. Without a word, he bent down and swept Xavier up in his arms, carrying him towards the hallway, ignoring the complaints his body made. He was sure he would have a hard time sleeping tonight when his body would make sure to complain quite painfully over all the lifting he had done today. 

“Hey,” Jubilee protested and with John’s help got up.

“John, support the woman,” Black Thunder ordered and started to carry Xavier out.

“He’s wounded,” Jubilee said angrily. Black Thunder turned back towards her. Xavier wasn’t a lightweight in his arms and his back was killing him while the dried blood on his back and the beginning scars made him want to scratch. It did nothing to improve his patience.

“It’s either him or the guards. You choose,” Black Thunder snapped and though his impatience could be heard in his voice, it was still low and even. Jubilee saw the look of disgust, but also lust in the guards’ eyes and shivered. John noticed and laid her arm around his neck with his unhurt arm and began to guide her after Black Thunder, down the corridor. After what felt like forever for them all, they finally reached the infirmary and Black Thunder carried Xavier inside, Jubilee and John close behind. The guards stayed just outside the door to the slaves’ hospital wing.

“Black Thunder! What have you done now?” a female voice asked disapprovingly and John saw a beautiful black woman with shoulder length hair coming towards them. She wore a white coat indicating that she was the Dr. Cecilia Black Thunder had mentioned. She was…. stunning.

“This man needs a wheelchair,” Black Thunder said as he placed Xavier in a chair.

“We have none. You of all people should know that if a slave can’t work anymore, they get cancelled,” Cecilia said and moved towards John and Jubilee. “Here, come to the bed,” she said gently and helped them to a bed each where they gratefully sat down. She examined Jubilee’s leg first. “Hmm, a clean break,” she commented.

“Shall I give you a hand with it?” Black Thunder asked and came to her.

“You have the time?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Hold her down while I set it back in place,” Cecilia said and before Jubilee could protest Black Thunder had pushed her hard against the bed, pinning her down.

”What are you doing?” John asked alarmed.

“You can’t do this. She needs drugs for the pain. I may not be a doctor but I’ve worked in many hospitals. I know what I’m talking about,” Xavier said from his chair from which he couldn’t move, feeling helpless and frustrated about it.

“We have no more drugs and we aren’t getting any new ones till next month. I can’t waste the drugs I have left on a broken leg when I might get patients with serious injuries later,” Cecilia said harshly.

“Jubilee?” John said softly and she took hold of his uninjured hand. He tried not to let her see his worry for her, but apparently it didn’t work.

Jubilee gave him a small forced half smile and said, “It will be alright.” Her voice tried to be strong but fear was clearly in it all the same. 

John smiled a little at that. “I should be comforting you,” John protested.

Black Thunder looked at the young girl. Although she hid it well, he could see the fear in her eyes, in her face and hear it in her voice. Pain was always that much more unpleasant when you knew it was coming.

“Medicine Woman?” he said with a questioning tone of voice. After years where he had assisted her with patients she understood his silent question.

“Do it.”

Before either Xavier, John or Jubilee understood what was happening Black Thunder hit Jubilee hard in the face, sending her into unconsciousness.

“Hey! What in the world do you think you’re doing?” John protested again, jumping down from his bed to come to Jubilee’s bedside but Black Thunder pushed him away as both he and Cecilia otherwise ignored him, as they now began to work on Jubilee’s leg. With a crack, the bones fell into place and John made a face at the pain Jubilee would have felt had she been conscious. Cecilia made a better splint for her that actually would hold the leg in place instead of the tightly rolled ties of clothes Jean had had to use and then turned towards John.

“You can just hit me right away,” he mumbled as Cecilia took the piece of clothing away from his arm.

It looked really bad and wasn’t a clean break. The tip of a bone stuck a little out, just breaking through the skin. It had to hurt like all hell, but the boy hadn’t complained even once. Black Thunder began to realise that the X-Men were made of tougher material than he had first thought.

“You’re right,” Black Thunder said and hit John in the face, his head flying to the side as he was knocked into unconsciousness.

“Take him to the table,” Cecilia said and Black Thunder carried him to a table that Cecilia used as an operating table. It didn’t much look the part but there was a big lamp over it. Black Thunder moved a chair to the table and then carried Xavier over to it and placed him in it. He looked at Cecilia.

“I can manage here now. You go do what you have to do,” Cecilia said and waved him away. She knew that it probably had something to do with termination but she didn’t ask and he didn’t tell. It was better that way. With a small nod of his head, Black Thunder exited the room and walked away to find two unfortunate guards. 

Xavier worked with Cecilia on John and they succeeded in putting his arm back together, although they had to work with crude material and instruments. John would probably get a scar from Cecilia’s stitches though. He now lay in a bed next to Jubilee, both having drifted into sleep after nights without any and without a real bed. Although the hospital beds weren’t exactly the newest models, they were better than the floor of the cell. After that, more slaves had come to sickbay and Cecilia had enjoyed having Xavier to help her. When things had calmed down she found Xavier next to the bed of a young woman.

“What is wrong with her?” Xavier asked as he looked at the young woman. She had blond hair and green eyes. She looked to be in her late thirties but looks could be deceiving, especially in her case. She had almost as many cuts, bruises and scars as Black Thunder so Xavier figured they both must have been slaves for a long time. She had obviously been tortured long and several times. What disturbed him the most, however, was the emptiness of her stare. Her eyes were open but she just stared up at the ceiling as if nothing around her interested her or existed to her.

“Physically she is almost healed but mentally…” Cecilia took a deep breath before she explained. “They tortured her, raped her. Finally she broke down. She has been here for three months now. Black Thunder brought her here but I have been unable to reach her no matter what I do.” Cecilia let her hand pass millimetres from the woman’s face yet still she didn’t even blink. “See? There is nothing to be done. Her mind is gone, destroyed. Now she only waits for her body to follow her. I have seen it before.” she noticed Xavier’s sympathetic stare. “Don’t waste your time with her. She is a living dead. You should help me with those we have a chance to save,” she said and went towards a new patient that had come in.

“You won’t mind if I disagree and try anyway?” Xavier asked mildly and stroked some loose hair away from the woman’s face. There was something about the woman…something calling to him. He didn’t know what or why but he knew it was there. He had to save this woman. He hadn’t been able to save Ororo or his X-Men but he would save this woman. He felt helpless and useless but if he could reach this woman who everyone else had given up on then maybe he could save himself as well.

“Be my guest. Just do it in your own free time, when we don’t have any customers,” Cecilia said and nodded to a guard who roughly took Xavier from the woman’s bedside and put him in a chair next to the operation table. Xavier looked one last time at the woman. He felt strangely alone without her at his side. It didn’t make sense as they had just met but still…. maybe some things were meant to be. After what he had seen over the years, he wouldn’t rule anything out. When the operation was over Xavier managed to get Cecilia to order a guard to carry him over so he could sit by the woman’s bedside, talking softly to her, whenever he wasn’t working.


	18. Ororo’s Ordeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Thunder manages to save Ororo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mentions rape and torture

## Chapter 18: Ororo’s Ordeal

Ororo followed the man with her eyes as he exited the room, leaving her behind and tied to the bed. Fear made sweat spring forth on her forehead, and made her heart beat faster and her respiration more rapid.

She looked around in the small, very small, room, trying to assure herself there were no other people around. This was worse than the cell; at least there she had had the others with her, something to occupy her mind with. Here she was alone, alone with her thoughts. The more she looked at the walls the more she was sure they were moving in on her. She tried to control her claustrophobia but it was next to impossible. Her eyes went to the door again. Her claustrophobia wasn’t her only concern…

She tried to control her panic but it rose within her anyway. He would be back and when he did, he’d be like the others. Cruel hands touching her, forcing her to do and say things she didn’t want to. Forcing himself upon her like all the others. No, she couldn’t remember. Not now. Not here. She had to focus on something else. She let hot rage replaced her fear, for now burying her memories of her terrible ordeal. She wouldn’t let it happen. Not again. Never again. She tore at the cuffs holding her to the bed. They were made of metal and didn’t buckle. She tore at them again, her wrists starting to bleed again from the wounds she had gotten when she had tried to get away from the first men who had come to her. Panic was beginning to envelop her, threatening to drive away her newfound rage that had her clinging to sanity and not drowning in memories. She had to get away before he came back. She had to. She couldn’t take this any more. She needed to get out. Needed to be free.

“Uh, ahh,” she moaned as she tore at her wrists to try and get out, only succeeding in tearing even more skin from her abused wrists. She fought to stay positive. This time it was, after all, only one wrist that held her captive but despite that she was as helpless as before. Tears sprung to her eyes from the pain but she kept trying, until she fell back on the bed in sheer exhaustion. It was useless. She couldn’t escape. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she fought to keep her anger and not let helplessness and flashbacks drive her resolve away again. Through her tears she spotted a fork lying on a small table that stood next to the bed, up against the wall. Drying her tears away with her free hand she got up from the bed and reached for the fork. The cuffs held her back so she got down on the floor and stretched her body as far as she could and again reached for the fork with her free hand. She brushed it with her fingertips but as she tried to get a better hold of it, it fell to the floor.

“By the Goddess,” she mumbled irritated but forced herself to relax as she reached for it again. Time seemed to stop as all she thought about was getting that fork. After countless failings she finally got it. With a smile at her triumph, she put one of the teeth of the fork into the keyhole of her handcuff. Moving it back and forth a few times, the lock sprang open.

“Who says you can’t learn anything from a thief?” Ororo said out loud as she threw the cuffs away. Finally free, she got to her feet and reached for the door. She was about to open it when she realised someone was opening it from the outside. Panic overran her. He was back! Quickly she hid behind the door as the man, Black Thunder, entered.

Black Thunder saw the empty bed and, as she sprang from her hiding place onto him, he was ready. He dropped the bag in his hands and took hold of her right arm, forcing it behind her back and twisting it upward. She was forced to her knees. He learned over her from behind and whispered in her ear.

“I will not harm you, but if you go out there you’ll be killed.” His voice was soft, even.

“I don’t believe you,” Ororo hissed, fighting her fear with anger. Black Thunder just stared at her for a while. She was still weak; she needed rest and food.

“Come on.” He dragged her to her feet and towards the bed.

“Noooo,” Ororo cried in terror and began screaming, hitting, biting and kicking like a wild animal, flashes of what she had been through running through her mind’s eye. Black Thunder lost his grip on her and she ran to the door. She succeeded in opening it before Black Thunder grabbed her from behind and forced her back with him but not before Ororo had seen a long hallway with a lot of doors, the air filled with screams and men standing guard to the wall. He cuffed her to the bed again before quickly closing the door.

“Let’s hope they didn’t see you,” Black Thunder said with a hint of accusation as he picked up the bag and began emptying it on the small table. He noticed the fork.

“You used this to undo the cuffs?”

Ororo didn’t answer, just stared at him with a mixture of hatred and fear, trying hard not to look as vulnerable and panicked as she felt.

“Clever.”

He put the fork out of her reach, on another small table next to the door. He went back and began to organise the things from the bag. There was a big loaf of bread and some butter and cheese, which made Ororo realise how hungry she was. Fear and terror mixed with anger were still her most dominant feelings but hunger was beginning to take their place. Black Thunder took two small jars that had been in the bag as well and went to her.

“Noo!” Her fear returned and against her will she drew back from him, lifting her free hand in front of her face in an age-old gesture of protection.

“I will not hurt you,” Black Thunder said softly and placed the jars beside her and took off the lids.

“This lotion will help your wounds to heal faster.”

While in sickbay he had grabbed the jars for Ororo. He knew they should have been saved for more serious cases as the lotion was also a local anaesthetic but the others didn’t matter. They were all as good as dead anyway. No, all that mattered was this woman. Even now in her anger and confusion he felt she spoke to him like none other ever had, maybe save Equalia. Black Thunder left her in order to arrange the food on a big plate.

For a while Ororo just eyed the lotion suspiciously before making a grab for one of the jars and when he didn’t stop her, she applied some lotion to the cuts and marks on her chest. What she really wanted right now was to take a hot shower that would last forever. She felt…dirty, like she’d never get clean again. But she couldn’t ask for one, wouldn’t be in his debt. Silence fell over the room until Black Thunder placed the plate on the floor next to her, with a jug he had just been to the bathroom to fill with water before seating himself cross-legged on the floor in front of her. Ororo felt uncomfortable by his nearness and tried to move away but the cuff held her in place, preventing her from moving away from the bed. She couldn’t move; couldn’t run. She cursed her fear and her instinctive withdrawal every time he came near. She didn’t want to be this weak. She couldn’t afford to be. Black Thunder pretended not to notice as he arranged the bread. He raised the plate to her but she forced herself to turn her face away even as the smell of food made her mouth water. And not just food - she eyed the water longingly. She never knew until this moment that water actually smelled for she could smell it now.

“You should eat. You are weak. You need to regain your strength,” Black Thunder observed but didn’t push her as he placed the plate back on the floor and took a piece of bread and some cheese for himself. He had cut the slices of bread and cheese on the table; putting a knife near Ororo would be suicidal so he had given up on the butter. For a while she just eyed him, until her hunger won over her pride and she drank from the glass of water he had put in front of her before quickly snapping up a piece of bread, as if she was afraid that he’d remove it any moment. She took the whole piece of bread in her mouth all at once, amplifying that she did indeed believe he’d remove the food from her. They ate in silence until Black Thunder spoke again:

“The captain, your friends, everyone believes you to have been killed.”

Ororo looked at him in shock. Her friends...they would all be so griefstruck. If they had the time for that. She remembered that the captain had said he’d send them all to work. There was only one good thing about this place as far as she could tell; the constant battle to survive gave them little time to grieve or feel the emotional aftershocks of their ordeals, if they wanted to stay alive that is. She observed Black Thunder closely, wondering what he would want from her. One terrible possibility came to mind and made her have to fight to keep her body from shaking in fear.

“Why?” she couldn’t help but ask, forgetting her rule of caution and silence. He gave her a blank stare before continuing.

“If anyone finds you outside this room, you will be killed and so will I. I will undo your cuffs just as long as you promise to stay in here,” he gestured to his small room.

Anger appeared in her eyes. “And do what, exactly? Please you? I would rather die,” she spat and eyed him with murder in her eyes, rage again bringing her fear under control.

“No.” He saw she didn’t believe him. “I know it most have been hard for you but I…” he began softly.

“You know? You know about this?” Ororo’s voice was rising to a high pitch and her eyes blazed fury, and behind that agony and humiliation. “You have been raped? You have felt hands on your body, touching you, tearing your clothes apart? Men laughing at your screams and attempts to flee, men bargaining over you about who to do what first. Being forced to…forced to….” Her voice finally broke now, as tears rolled freely from her eyes and she was crying hysterically, hugging herself. He briefly closed his eyes against the images her words painted for him. A part of him wanted to yell at her, shake her hard, maybe even laugh as hysterically as she was crying. A part of him wanted to slap her face and tell her that she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. She thought she had had it hard? Try being a proud man, a warrior and remember how you were reduced to a shivering, trembling bundle in a corner, flinching away from any touch. Remember how helpless and humiliated you had felt when you for the first time discovered that a man could actually be raped, and how it had hurt…and the smell of…his own warm blood on his legs…Stop it! Stop right now, he sternly told himself. He fought to wipe away the memories her words had brought up, making him wonder if this really was a good idea. He couldn’t help her deal with what she had been through; he could barely deal with what he had been through. He wasn’t what she needed. They would end up destroying each other. This could only end in disaster when one of them finally snapped.

“Ororo, I…I don’t know what to do,” Black Thunder ended with a whisper, maybe too low for her to hear. She was still hugging herself and, despite his earlier musings he still needed her, somehow, and maybe this could all work out…somehow. Without really thinking, just wanting to make her stop doing that crying and hugging thing, which he thought didn’t look at all healthy, he reached for her. He had been a slave long enough to have learnt that any kind of emotional displays, especially crying and the need for a hug, was wrong and therefore swiftly punished. This belief now sat so deeply in him that just seeing Ororo do both at once made him sure that not only did her actions have to be unhealthy but they also made him unsure on how to handle the situation as he couldn’t punish her the way he had been taught he should.

“Don’t touch me! Stay away from me!” She tried to back away from him and he made it easier as he backed away from her, his hands raised in a calming gesture.

“I know you are suffering….” he tried again, trying for a calming tone of voice to make her work with him a little.

“You?” She eyed him with disbelief and contempt in her voice but at least she stopped hugging herself and her tears stopped as well. “What do you know about pain? You have turned on your own, killing mutants and working for a government which holds slaves.” Her contempt was clear and the look she gave him was like she was looking at a very disgusting rat.

“You have no right to judge me.” His voice had suddenly become cold but she was too angry to care about the warning signals he was sending.

“I have every right. So, tell me, how does it work? You kill disobedient slaves for the captain and get some free time with the goods?” she asked with contempt, rage making her cheeks flame and making her fear be forgotten. 

“What I do is none of your business. In case you failed to notice, I saved your life!” Black Thunder said and for the first time since Ororo had been introduced to him, he had raised his voice.

“Only to get something from me. So, get it over with. I’m a slave and do as I’m told but don’t expect me to enjoy it.” Her words were a contrast to her angry and defiant stare, yet she meant every word. She’d rather she got this over with than wait for him to make a grab for her in the middle of the night.

“I don’t need to learn a slave’s place,” Black Thunder said, his voice dangerously low as he began to explain. “This island was once a colony for European settlers like your country, America, was. However, like yours, these lands were already occupied with a people native to these lands. For a time the two groups got along fairly well, even though the settlers took a lot of land and power by force, among other things making Ghenosha’s official language English since this was the language most of the settlers spoke. Despite this, there were even some intermixed marriages. I was a product of one such marriage as I am the son of a Native woman and a Ghenoshan man. They lived with her people. However, when I was a young boy a new Ghenoshan government was to be elected and they played on the hate and fear of the descendants of those settlers towards the Natives and the newly evolved mutants. They got elected and the new government got the people enflamed with as much hatred for the Natives as I’ve heard your government once did, and maybe still do towards the people Native to their lands.” Black Thunder took a deep breath as he rose before he went on, not looking at her as he spoke. “Mutants and the Native population were the perfect victims; outnumbered, different and already feared and hated.” His tone grew dark as he continued. “They came to the villages of my mother’s, killing and torturing everyone. To them my mother’s people were not human; they were not even granted the same respect as one would an animal. My grandfather, Helian, was the protector of the village I lived in. When he heard of attacks on other villages he didn’t understand why the Government troops would do such things and refused to believe anyone could be cruel enough to attack an unarmed and defenceless people.” Black Thunder laughed a short and bitter laugh. “Fool he for none could have been more wrong. When the troops finally came to our village he offered horses, all he owned in exchange for his peoples lives. The soldiers didn’t listen. They forced him to watch as they killed my mother and tortured my father. They cut up his babies and when they were done, only he was left. He begged them to kill him too but they had something else in mind. Something worse. They let him live,” Black Thunder was now pacing the floor, his voice expressing emotions for the first time but it was only hatred and bitterness. “My grandfather didn’t have anywhere to go. All villages he came to for a little food turned him away. A warrior’s pride is his life but in the end he lost even that. In his last years he begged for food before finally dying when some white villages accused him of stealing bread. It was later discovered that a young boy from the village had taken it, still too young to know he shouldn’t have,” he continued his tale and his hatred for these men, these white villages, was so strong that Ororo flinched. It was as if he knew her unasked question for he said, “I wasn’t in the village when the massacre happened. I had gone hunting against my father’s wishes. I wanted to show my friends that even though I had fairer skin than them, I was as good a warrior as anyone.” Black Thunder stopped, getting lost in memories. A stupid wager with a friend had held him away. Had made him survive what he shouldn’t have. Many times during his life, he had felt that it would have been better if he had died that day. At least then, he’ll be with his family. At peace.

“And what of you?” Ororo asked softly, not doubting his story. No one could fake such repressed hatred and pain. Hearing of his life had made her forget her own ordeal and all that had happened, even for just a little while. She even found herself feeling a little sorry for him.

“The captain took me in. Trained me.” His voice was even again, calm, and he turned to face her.

“You grew up here?” She indicated the room and the building. He nodded.

“I have been a slave all my life,” he said simply. All alone, never knowing the love of a mother or father for so many years. Ororo felt sympathy for him while knowing that even the best man could be twisted; especially if evil was all he saw. She had a feeling he wasn’t telling everything but for now it would have to do. As he sat by her again, she really noticed the scar on his face. Following her curious glance he turned his head, giving her a full view of the ugly scar, his expression neutral. Without saying a word he got up and went to the small table by the door. He took a scissor from the drawer under the table and took off his vest. He clipped off his bandage and, as he unfolded it, she saw the dried blood on it and the fresh marks on his back, lying above layers of other marks on his back, speaking of years of abuse. As he turned his front to her she saw all the cuts, bruises and scars on his chest. She drew a sharp breath in horror.

“I’m…sorry,” she whispered as he went to the other side of the bed. Black Thunder merely nodded.

“Don’t be. I’ve seen and done worse,” he said quietly and there was a warning to his tone though what exactly he was warning her against she did not know. She didn’t know what to say so she said nothing.

“I will take off the cuffs if you promise not to escape. Even if you killed me, you’ll have nowhere to go. As soon as you reach the hallway, the guards will either shoot you or use the control over your collar,” he continued and nodded to the collars they both wore. Ororo seemed to seriously think about it. She wanted to get away, she wanted to free the others. But he was right. She had seen the guards. She wouldn’t get far and she’d certainly never reach the others in the cell. And even if she did, she didn’t know how to control the force shield on the wall next to the cell. She eyed Black Thunder. He had the codes to the shield. If she could get him to tell her…and then…well, she wasn’t sure but she’d think of something. She smiled sweetly at him.

“I won’t try to escape,” Ororo said and leaned towards him.

“Give me your word,” he asked as he took forth the key to the cuffs.

“You’ll trust my word?” Ororo asked disbelieving.

“Yes. Had you been white I probably wouldn’t. Old hate dies slowly and the flame will always burn even when you think it died long ago,” Black Thunder said seriously, thinking of the guards at the compound and the soldiers that had destroyed his home and his family.

“Then I give my word,” Ororo pledged. Now she had a problem. She didn’t go back on her word when given. But maybe she could find a way around that. If Black Thunder was on her side, it wouldn’t be escaping. He undid her cuffs and moved away from her, feeling his nearness still made her uncomfortable.

“Can I use the bathroom?” Ororo asked softly, not liking to have to ask.

“Yes.”

When Ororo came out Black Thunder went to the bathroom and she was amazed how quickly he trusted she would remain in his room and stay true to her word. On the other hand, it sounded like she had the most to lose by trying to escape. He came back and looked from Ororo sitting in a corner to the only bed in the room.

“You take it,” Black Thunder said and he didn’t have to tell her twice. It had been a long time since she had felt a real bed beneath her and felt just a sense of security about it. Soon she was under the covers. Black Thunder got ready to sleep on the floor, using his sweatshirt as a pillow, purposely not removing his pants as to not make her uncomfortable. She fought to keep her eyes closed and sleep but she kept focusing on the scars on his now naked chest. She knew that just because he had been a victim didn’t mean he wasn’t an abuser now. In fact most abusers had been victims themselves but, despite her reasoning, she felt sorry for him. His life story still stuck in her head and she identified with his loss of family. She herself had been orphaned as a young girl when an earthquake had buried her with her parents inside a collapsed building. For a few days she had been stuck with her dead parents before she had been rescued. The ordeal had given her sleeping troubles, fear of the dark and claustrophobia, issues she still fought with today.

“You can...we can share,” she said in a small voice and made room for him on one side of the bed, crawling back into the other corner of the bed. The shiver, which ran through her at her own proposal, didn’t miss his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she lied, her voice shaking. It had seemed like a good idea before. Now she regretted it. Black Thunder went to the other side of the bed but before going to bed he took a pillow she wasn’t using from the bed and two others from a drawer and put them on the bed as a wall between them. When he laid himself on the bed on the other side of the pillows, Ororo couldn’t see him and she felt calmer, more secure.

“Thanks,” she mumbled softly.

“…Welcome,” he finally said after so long a pause that she thought he hadn’t heard her. There was a long silence before Ororo said softly:

“I know of the similarities between the way the Ghenoshan and the American government treated and still treat the Native population. I..…I just wanted you to know that I have nothing to do with it and neither does many of the Americans alive today. However, though I live in America I grew up in Africa.” There was a long silence and she thought he might have fallen asleep.

“I knew a woman of such courage and beauty could not be like that. Besides, you have been blessed by The Great Spirit.” His voice too was low but a sense of kindness had entered it. He hadn’t spoken about his beliefs since the captain had taken him in. He wasn’t supposed to have much Native identity left but he hadn’t forgotten the teachings of his mother’s people.

“What do you mean?” Ororo whispered, light curiosity in her voice.

“The Great Spirit let the sun, our Father, shine so brightly on you and your people that you gained a even darker colour than my people, marking you as one of His favourites of all creations,” Black Thunder explained softly, remembering his mother’s tale that the sun, their Father, shone the brightest on his favourite people.

Though his mother’s teachings had taught him that all men were created equal, their Divine Father, the sun, did play favourites, which of course was made up for by his sister, the Moon, who in return shone the brightest for the fair-skinned people. Everything in the Native religion of Ghenosha was a balance and thus when some deity played favourite for one person or one group of people, another deity would make it up for the other group. The Native religion speculated that this was the why the Ghenoshan government was at a stall still with the rebels; they each had the same number of deities on their side to keep a balance despite the unequal balance of mortals in the two groups. Of course, if that was the case Black Thunder hoped The Great Spirit, as the supreme deity of the Native Ghenoshan religion, would interfere as only He could break such ties. The Great Spirit was thought to be the only one wise enough to know when breaking a balance was for the good of all mankind and thus only He had the power to do so. His lips curved in a small smile as he remembered these pieces of a religion he hadn’t thought about nor practised for so long. He had thought he had forgotten about the old tales long ago.

“Hmm, you should have told Hitler that. Or quite a few people in America and around the globe,” Ororo said with a small smile, liking the thought that her people were thought the favourites of a deity.

“We all have skeletons in our closets,” Black Thunder said mysteriously and she knew that meant the discussion was over.

She thought she would be unable to sleep but sheer exhaustion made her fall asleep within minutes. Her dreams were confusing, one part a nightmare of men reaching for her and one a picture of Black Thunder, standing at the end of a tunnel, waiting for her. She’d run to him but would never reach him. Had she been able to remember the dream when she woke up, she’d have wondered if the dreams were a sign of things to come or a picture of what had been. 


	19. Love And Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Jean are attacked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions rape, beatings etc.

## Chapter 19: Love And Pain

About six weeks had passed since their capture, and Peter had been surprised at how quickly he had settled into a kind of routine. What he found worst about their capture was the lack of logic. Even if they followed all rules they could still be punished, without reason or explanation. There were suddenly no certainties in life save the ones he carried within. He hadn’t wanted to think too much about all he had lost, about how things had been, afraid he might not be able to go on if he did. His love for Kitty and the fact that she needed him to take care of her and needed him to stay in the present, stay calm and strong, had saved him. He focused on her and her alone and thus shut everything else from his mind, refusing to deal with it or think about it.

The first few days had been the hardest when he had had to go to the mine with Scott and the others, and had had to leave Kitty to go with Jean and Rogue to work at the palace. After they had lost Ororo, he had worried more for her than ever, always afraid that one evening, when they were allowed to return to the compound for dinner and rest, he’d find that she had suffered an ordeal so terrible she wouldn’t be able to find words to describe it. He’d have known then that he had failed to take care of her as he had promised he would, a knowledge he doubted he could live with. To his great relief that hadn’t happened, but he still didn’t relax since the threat was always there. It wasn’t just the outside he felt he had to protect her from but herself as well. She seemed unable to deal with their situation. He couldn’t blame her; she was only 16 and nothing in her suburban life could have prepared her for the life of a slave. He remembered how life had been like in the post-Soviet world and this knowledge had helped him adapt to his present situation; probably better than any of the X-men save maybe Logan. His parents and grandparents had told him terrible tales of the KGB and the constant fear they had lived in, yet freedom and change did not come overnight. With the fall of the Soviet Union, Russia had been thrown into chaos and when he and his family had left for America the change still hadn’t been completed. The feared Russian Mafia had gained great control and power, not to mention great riches. The common people to which he and his family had belonged had gained no more money, and still had very little freedom. He recalled what it was like to live in poverty and he had as a young boy known what it felt like to go hungry to bed and had accepted this as a part of life. Furthermore, the threat and fear from the Mafia had made sure he always obeyed the orders he was given, about where to go and where not to go, what to see and say and what not to see and say. Also, he had known more than any boy should about the evil things a man would be willing to do to protect his family. His own father had done things for the Mafia that had been too terrible for his mother to listen to but which Peter had heard. As the oldest son the family’s safety and honour was also his responsibility, and he had known that for his family to get safely out of Russia and to America they would need a lot of money. He had helped a little to gather that money, delivering packages for the Mafia containing things he did not wish to know about. His dad, however, had truly sold his soul to the devil as he had worked for the Mafia; all to give his family safety and comfort. The agony of his actions had driven him to drinking, his only escape from his demons were the things he told his oldest son in the dark of night, his voice slurred with alcohol. His father had died not long after they had arrived in America, and Peter had been sure it was because his father had been unable to accept the man he had become and had been unable to live with the horrible memories of his own actions.

His background had given him knowledge of a darker world, a world Kitty had never even imagined could exist and that had made it easier for him to adapt to a life as a slave. He had tried to look at the positive things; Kitty was still alive and with him. That got him through the hard and long workday. He had loved Kitty since he had first laid eyes on her when she had been only 12. He had wanted her to grow up before he came to her but they had, despite that, started dating when she was 14. Kitty was a very sweet and shy girl and everything he had always wanted in a wife. He had known then that she was the woman he wished to spend the rest of his life with. They had shared a few kisses but that had been all until about four weeks ago when Kitty had been unable to hold it all together anymore. She had fallen into a depression and Peter had begun to fear for her sanity. She cried almost constantly and kept asking him to take her home. It broke his heart to tell her that he couldn’t get her away, but he had vowed he would do everything in his power to get her safe and home as soon as possible. He had been sitting with her one night in their cell while the others had gone to eat. She had been shaking and crying and he had tried to comfort her, holding her close. She had clung to him as if to a drowning a life vest and before he had had time to think they had made love. He had always thought he would marry her first, that had been the plan, but that night they had both needed more, needed to feel each other’s love to chase away the darkness. Neither of them had told the others but maybe they knew, because afterwards things had looked up for them. Kitty was still very jumpy and uncomfortable but she had conquered her fear with his love. Whenever they could they’d steal some moments together but it was hard to find enough time to make love so they hadn’t been together more than three times.

Peter’s thoughts returned to the present when he saw Kitty standing outside the door that lead to the slaves’ large dining room where they would be served food after their long work day. Rogue stood beside her, one hand around her wrist, comforting her. His lips curved in a smile until he noticed how pale she looked, how nervous she looked. He frowned and hurried towards her, waving at Scott, Remy, Logan and Bobby who’d come back from the mine with him to indicate they should just go in and start eating. Seeing Peter nearing Kitty, Rogue let go of her but shot Peter a look that could only be a warning as she slipped into the dinner hall to find Logan. Peter’s surprise at Rogue’s reaction to him was forgotten when he stood before Kitty, once again all his concentration on her.

“Katherine, are you alright?” Peter asked her, worry clearly present in his voice and eyes as he reached her and gathered her in his embrace. She didn’t return his embrace but drew back and looked at him with puffed eyes, indicated she had been crying.

“I went to see the doctor today.” Her voice was toneless and flat. Peter gasped in fear. She didn’t look hurt so…His face went white as a sheet. Had she been…been raped? Oh, God, just the thought felt like a physical blow to him.

“Oh, Kitten!” He fought to stay strong, he had to be strong for her but when he reached for her, she again side-stepped him and looked up at him, their eyes meeting. She nervously folded and unfolded her hands before she softly said:  
  


“It was morning sickness.”

For a moment Peter stood still as a statue, not sure he had heard right or had understood her. Then a wide smile spread over his lips.

“You’re pregnant?” he asked gently. She blushed and looked at the floor but with a gentle hand under her chin he tipped her face up so their eyes met. Surprised by the warmth and love in his eyes she could merely nod. He had an awed expression on his face as he drew her into his embrace and this time she closed her arms around him.

“I thought you might be mad,” she whispered into his shoulder.

She had been so afraid. Her whole life had lost its meaning and its focus until she had found hope in him. Neither of them had considered this might happen when they had made love; they had just needed to hold each other, to be close and chase away the demons for a while. When Cecilia had told her she was pregnant it had been like being hit with a bucket of cold water. Suddenly everything seemed real and very frightening. For an absurd second she had wondered how she could ever explain this to her parents. They had always told her no sex before marriage and she had believed in that…until all this had happened and somehow, when she had made love to Peter, that rule hadn’t even brushed her mind; it was as if it hadn’t been real. Now it was and she was afraid. What if they killed pregnant slaves or the child or…?

Suddenly she had remembered that Peter and she weren’t married. Maybe he didn’t want the child and what about her faith? What kind of woman was she now that she was to have a child out of wedlock? Strange how she hadn’t been very religious before this had happened, but now she was and suddenly she remembered all the worst things possible. Her day had been one long nightmare of worry, though Cecilia had offered comfort. Even Jubilee, John and Xavier had offered comfort when she had had to tell them the truth because they had been worried for her, afraid she had been seriously hurt since she had been allowed to go to sickbay in the middle of the day. They had been surprised but most of all they were supportive. However, she had noticed that none of them really seemed happy for her. Returning to work, she had told Jean and Rogue what had happened and Jean’s reaction had been like the others: supportive but not happy, thinking, like they had, that her pregnancy was an added burden on the group. Only Rogue had been delighted. She had told Kitty that Logan still refused to sleep with her, wanting their first time to be special and not in a place that reminded him of his nightmarish experiments. Still, Rogue had expressed her hope that one day they could be together, one day when Logan realized they might be here for a very long time. And then maybe she could have a child of her own. She had always loved kids and really wanted that gift.

Rogue had stayed with her all through the day, being her strength, but Kitty had still worried, especially about what to say to Peter and she had told her friend as much. The day had felt like it would go on forever while she had feared Peter would hate her or blame her…call her terrible things. To know now that he did neither…She should have known he would do the right thing, that he’d take care of her but fear had colored her judgement.

Peter drew back so she could read the truth in his face as he heard her confession of her fear.

“I love you, Katherine,” he said seriously. Before she could reply he had drawn back from her and knelt on one knee before her, her right hand in his. She blushed deeply and tugged on his hand for him to rise but he didn’t budge. “Katherine Pryde, will you grant me the honour of accepting my marriage proposal?”

“Peter, I…” She didn’t know how to voice her fears. In the end she just said it. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.” She had dreamed of marrying him since she had first seen him. It was like the dream of the prince on the white horse but she wanted him to love her and not marry her out of obligation. She had always known he was a very responsible man, very mature for his age. He would take responsibility for his actions but she wanted his love.  
  


“Kitten,” he began softly, warmly and their eyes met again. “I would have asked you to marry me the day you turned 18. I always wanted this. Now it’s just a little sooner.”

She smiled warmly, happiness shining in her eyes. “I love you, Peter. I wouldn’t have survived here without you. Of course I’ll marry you,” she said happily and he rose to embrace her and kissed her. For a while they just stood together, holding each other. Then Kitty said softly, “This won’t be easy.”  
  


“No,” Peter agreed as he stroked her hair.

“We haven’t even told Scott, Bobby, Remy or Logan. What if they get mad? What about the child? What kind of life is this? Will they even let us keep it?”

Peter could feel her raising panic and drew back a little so he could see her eyes. “Let’s take this one step at a time. I’ll talk to the others. Our life now isn’t the way it was. They would have been mad if this had happened at the school but this wouldn’t have happened at the school. Kitty, I love you and I’ll get you and our unborn child to safety. I promise you,” he said strongly and even though she knew he could make no such promises she relaxed into his embrace. For now that was enough.

* * *

Scott watched Peter go to Kitty as Rogue slipped past them and into the dining room. She looked okay but upset and Scott hoped she was all right. She had had a hard time but had seemed to be doing better. He himself had had his share of demons to fight with, as the aftershocks of his torture still tormented him. He had to fight nightmares, fear of the dark, of sudden touches and loud and sudden noises. Jean had been a constant support but despite her assurance that such behaviour was normal for a torture survivor, he still felt weak and embarrassed about his lack of control. He was grateful that the others pretended not to notice when he awoke from a nightmare with a scream only to seek comfort in Jean’s embrace and the reassurance of her soft words. To his surprise, Logan had been one of the most understanding people. He would never touch him without making sure they locked eyes first; no matter if they were sharing a meal or working he would never forget to do this. He would in general try and make things easier for Scott while he fought to regain control of his body’s fearful reactions from his ordeal. Without having spoken a word about it, Scott knew that Logan had been where he was; once, long ago, as a part of the experiments done on him and this shared bond of pain brought them closer than they had ever been before.

“Let’s give them some time,” Scott said to Logan, Remy and Bobby, indicating Kitty and Peter with a nod of his head after he had looked around to be sure there were no guards who seemed to take a particular interest in the couple. They walked into the dinner room together, searching for the others.

The dining room was a large room with some guards standing next to the wall to make sure the slaves behaved. If it hadn’t been for the guards it would have looked a bit like a high school cafeteria, with a lot of tables and a line-up to get a portion of whatever had been cooked together in the big pot that an older female slave was handing out.

Jean and Rogue stood near the door, waiting for them. Both women smiled as they saw the men and began to walk towards them. The many weeks of hard manual labour had put their marks on the men, who looked tired and worn but still smiled at them. The women sometimes had hard manual labour as well, as they did everything from playing servants to scrubbing the floors. One thing the three women had agreed whole-heartedly one was that when, and they said when, refusing to use if, they got back home they’d either hire a housekeeper or make the men clean the mansion. No way would they ever scrub another floor or clean another window voluntarily. The presidential palace was so large that when they had been told to clean the windows it had taken them two full work days, which apparently wasn’t fast enough for all three women had earned a hard rebuke from the overseer of the slaves in the palace as well as a hard slap in the face that was a more humiliating than hurtful lecture for the ‘slow’ progress. They had agreed that all windows in Xavier’s mansion had to go. The hard work and their play at humour, telling each other how they’d do things when they got back to the mansion, got the women through the day. As long as they were together and could cheer each other up it wasn’t so bad. The shadow of Ororo’s death still hung over them, however, even though they all fought not to think about it, doubting they would be able to stop the pain once they allowed themselves to mourn.

Seeing Peter with Kitty made Remy fight tears. He missed Ororo a lot. He felt so alone without her. She had understood him like no other. She had taken care of him…and when she needed him he had been unable to save her. Always a bit of an outsider with everyone but Storm, no one noticed the depth of his grief. He went through the days like a machine, fighting not to think about Ororo but his thoughts kept returning to her. It was worst at night where his dreams would be plagued by horrible images of her death and how she’d yelled for him…and he hadn’t come to her. She had cursed him then…He wondered if she had cursed him in reality as well? The fear of his nightmares meant he got very little sleep these days, often spending the nights spilling silent tears for the only person in the world who he felt had truly cared for him. Come daybreak the tears would be gone and the day would drift by in a blissfully haze of nothingness save concentrating on the simple but hard physical labour he was doing. 

“I never thought I would say this but I miss Jubes. But if you tell her as much I’ll have to kill you,” Bobby commented and tried to hide the depth of his concern for her with his trademark humour. He knew she was probably in the safest place possible, but after Ororo’s death he didn’t like not being able to see her during the day.

“She’s fine, kid. Still workin’ with that Doc in the hospital,” Logan said distractedly as he had spotted Rogue and was smiling at her.

He wasn’t sure he would have been able to hold his temper so well under control if she had not been here. His distaste and fear for their situation would earlier had made him bold in his attempts to escape but now he had her to think about. He would never leave Rogue behind. Truth be told, he wouldn’t leave any of his friends behind. A lot could be said about their new situation but it had made close friends out of people who earlier had barely been able to tolerate each other. Here they had to stick together or die. Petty differences and keeping up with appearances wasn’t important anymore. Every day when the small team got to the mine Scott would hold a small pep talk for them, telling them how everything would be okay. Logan didn’t need the talk and was glad it only lasted a few minutes but he could see that Remy and Bobby needed the daily assurance that there was hope that they would get back home. Before they were led away in the morning from the cell, Scott or Xavier or whoever felt like it that morning would use a few minuets to say something of the same, about how everything would work out. Again it was mostly for the benefit of the younger students. When in the mine they’d work fast to fulfil their quota for the day and then try discreetly to find a way out or discuss escape plans. So far they hadn’t been ably to come up with a plan that had even a minimal chance of succeeding. They had, however, managed to get a few hits from an overseer’s whip for asking too many questions or working too slow. Not wanting the students to feel the whip and fearing for Scott’s health as he was still recuperating from his torture, Logan had accepted punishment the three times they had been discovered, ignoring Scott’s protests. He knew that as time passed his metal skeleton would become his enemy and not his strength as blood poison would weaken him, in the end killing him if not something could be done but for now…for now and for as long as possible he would ignore this fact; hoping that when the time came Cecelia would have found a way to cleanse his blood for him.

Even though he would never say so, Logan had become very protective of Scott. He was still weak after his torture and Logan felt a bond with him due to his ordeal, remembering his experiments. Many times the two men would talk together in the cell when all others slept, officially to discuss escape plans but in reality it was because Scott didn’t want to sleep, afraid of what the darkness might bring him. Logan would keep talking, pretending he didn’t know why, till they were talking so late into the night that Scott fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

John, Jubilee and the Professor still worked at the hospital and returned at night to sleep in the cell. They ate with the slaves in the hospital wing and not with the others. Logan had to admit he was happy about that because the hospital wing was the safest place to be as the guards rarely went there. It was especially a good thing because none of them were fully healed and he knew how the guards loved to torment the weak ones among them. Despite this love to pick on the slaves who couldn’t defend themselves, the guards rarely entered the hospital. Probably didn’t want to see how they broke their toys beyond repair, Logan figured darkly. Logan’s thoughts were broken when Rogue reached him and his smile grew even warmer.

Even though none said it out loud, the reason for the couples’ long morning scenes was that they never knew if they’d see each other again. They had heard rumours and whispers among the other slaves about slaves being taking away, never to be seen again. Some said they were brainwashed into mindless beings who’d do anything they were ordered to do while others said they were experimented on and then killed. Despite the X-Men’s own resolution to try and mingle a bit among the other slaves to get information, they still tended to stay together. The other slaves did the same, not wishing to mix with outsiders who they did not trust. The X-men had early on felt the distaste towards non-Ghenoshans that many of the slaves had, their bitterness at having been left to die coming out in anger. As a result the X-men tried to be very careful with approaching the other slaves and they in return would stick together with people they had come to trust, or someone who’d protect them in exchange for whatever could be given in return. As in any society of prisoners, everything was sold and brought between the slaves, including sex, clothes and medicine.

The clearest separation in the slaves was between those who were mutants and those who weren’t. It was rare to find a mixed group and Logan was sure many of the captured human rebels must be feeling the full impact of their belief of equality right now. The mutant slaves who weren’t too broken knew that the humans among them, clearly marked by their lack of a collar, were as much a friend as any mutant slave but it was still hard for many of them to trust a human again after so much pain at the hands of one. Xavier’s heart must be breaking now, he who had always and still did believe so strongly in equality, at seeing this millstone of separation even within this closed society of mixed mutant-human slaves where fear still kept people apart. Besides trust issues on all sides, everyone seemed afraid of everyone else on general principle and when some of the X-Men had asked questions, careful to reveal their identities as non-Ghenoshans, the slaves had been afraid to answer. They had been fearful that the newcomers worked for their captors, testing to see if they still had foolish thoughts escape.

“Logan!” Rogue said happily, breaking his thoughts as she threw herself into his open arms when she reached him, and he lifted her up and spun her around, laughing warmly and gently with her, forgetting everything when blessed with her and their happiness for a while. Scott threw Logan and Rogue an amused smile before he turned his now only one eye to Jean and his smile grew much warmer. He had fought not to remember what had happened to him and mostly, during the day, he had succeeded. He kept himself busy with worrying about the others and escape plans but the loss of his sight on his right eye was something he couldn’t repress. Logan’s shocked expression after he in jest had called Scott One-Eye like he had used to some weeks ago would had been funny if it hadn’t been so heartbreaking, forcing so many memories to the surface that Scott had had to throw up in the bathroom before he had been able to get his memories pushed to the back of his mind again. Logan hadn’t called him that again and a part of Scott missed Logan’s teasing; the older man had become so much more cautious and careful with him, making Scott feel like he really had changed a lot since their capture and God damn it he didn’t want to feel that way!

“Hello, lover,” Jean said with a smile as she stopped before Scott. She put her arms around him and kissed him. His arms held her close for a second before he let her draw back.

“My lady, may I follow you to your table?” he asked softly and smiled at her as he offered her his arm like a king asking his queen permission to escort her to dinner. The gesture was totally out of place but everything melted away, everything but the two of them and how they felt about each other. In that moment they weren’t slaves, they were just Scott and Jean, two people in love, husband and wife who were going to enjoy a nice dinner and each other’s company.

“You may. You certainly may,” Jean said warmly as she accepted his arm and he led her to a free table.

Some time later Jean told Scott about Kitty. He was also worried about her but Jean said she and Rogue would look after her at work to make sure she didn’t burden herself too much. Scott jokingly said he obviously needed to speak to Peter about the birds and the bees but they both knew he wouldn’t reprimand the young man. There was no reason to. Done was done and he knew Peter as a responsible young man who’d take care of his family as well as he could despite his age. If anyone of his students should be a teenager father, Peter was the best choice. It still didn’t sit so well with him that his 18 and 16-year-old students were going to be parents but, as Jean had told him, she was a doctor and could make sure Kitty was alright and she was right when she said that the rules of modern society didn’t apply to them anymore. Peter and Kitty had created new life in a place of darkness; that in it self was a miracle. They had done what they had felt they had to and wanted to do to try and deal with the harsh and brutal reality they had been dropped into.

Remy cast a bittersweet smile at Scott and Jean as he lined up to get a bowl of whatever they were having tonight. Seeing Rogue behind him in the line, Remy forced himself to say something, anything to maybe bring a small smile to her face…A small smile for her.

“Let’s see what’s for tonight…Champion a la crème for first course, then tenderloin with new potatoes and for dessert we’ll have chocolate mousse,” Remy teased as the female slaver put a substance which probably hadn’t even seen a piece of meat, into his bowl.

Rogue grinned at his words, ignorant of the pain that flared in his eyes. “Don’t say that, sugah. You’ll make me hungry for some real food,” she complained good-naturedly as Logan reached her after having said something to Scott. He embraced Rogue from behind and she leaned into his touch, looking safe and happy and Remy felt like smiling and crying all at the same time. Even after weeks of hardship and life as a slave, she still looked radiant. Her face was heart-shaped and fine, her lips full and red, and her long brown hair with the white steaks hung beautifully down her back. He had fallen in love with her as soon as he had seen her and now he couldn’t fall out of love with her. What had started out beautiful had become a constant longing he could never get fulfilled, and it added to the burden weighing him down. Besides Ororo, she was the only woman, maybe the only person, who he felt that strongly about. Personally, he wouldn’t really care if the entire world went to hell and beyond if only he could have Ororo by his side and Rogue in his arms. But that was not to be. No matter how much he wanted it, no matter how much he needed their love, Ororo was gone forever and Rogue didn’t and probably never would see him as more than a friend.

His life before Ororo was something he wished he could forget. Consisting of living on the street, always being hungry, and doing whatever he had to do to survive it had been a hard and cold life that had turned a young boy into a jaded and emotionally closed young man way before his years had caught up with him. At the age of 14 he had felt like he was 25 going on 80. Then he had met Ororo and she had rescued him from life on the street; she had taken care of him and somehow she had managed to become the light and warmth of his life. He trusted no one but he had come to trust her with everything he had and everything he was. Even when he had told her he had HIV, Ororo had stayed with him. HIV, the only gift his drug-using prostitute mother had left him with before she had run off and probably died some years back. Having lived with this illness since birth, knowing it was just a matter of years before it turned into AIDS from which he would slowly die, he had never had sex. The deadly illness had had its uses; he had managed to escape being raped when he had told his attackers of his illness. Most people who he had told about his illness drew away from him as if he had the plague or looked at him with sympathy and treated him as if he could break anytime and treated him like an old man or a baby. Sympathy was many times harder for him to bear than people’s coldness. But Ororo had never done that. She had expected him to work as hard as anyone else yet still had great compassion and understanding for his situation and looked out for him without exaggerating her concern into over-protectiveness. When he had first told her, he had feared he would lose her but wanted her to know since they had grown so close. To his joy and amazement, she had taken the news calmly but with sadness. Then she had read all information on the illness she could find, gave it to him as well and had made him believe it wasn’t all bad. She had made him believe that life could be worth living despite the bad hand fate had dealt him. She had hugged him, kissed his temple and his cheek…he was sure she would have kissed his lips had they loved each other in that way. In order to live as normal a life as possible and to be treated as normally as possible, Ororo and the other adults at the school had agreed it was best to keep Remy’s illness a secret, giving him a chance to experience what it meant to be a normal mutant teenager…except for his regular doctor checkups of course. To Remy’s relief, the teachers had taken the news of him having HIV very well. Jean, as one of his doctors, had known before the others and had been a great help to him. Even now she hovered and fussed over him to make sure he was all right, clearly worried that the bad conditions, malnutrition and lack of proper checkups and medication would make his HIV virus turn into full blown AIDS which, in these poor conditions, would quickly kill him if he as much as caught a cold. Thus Jean had also sternly insisted Remy got the most blankets and the only bed in the room even though he so far seemed to be holding up well. Scott and Xavier covered their concern a bit better but he still saw the worried looks they cast his way and tried to smile reassuringly back at them. Logan had been told after he had decided to stay and teach at the school. Remy had been afraid he would hit him or something but Logan had taken it calmly and had told Remy that if ever something happened or he needed someone he didn’t have to be careful around, he could always come to Logan because, with his healing powers, Remy couldn’t pass on the deadly illness to him even if they were both bleeding from wounds received in battle. Remy had been surprised by the older man’s kind gesture but that was Logan in a nutshell: growling insults and making you believe he cared for no one and then out of the blue offering this incredible gesture.

Despite his love for Ororo, Remy had been a solitary man all his life. What was the point of growing attached when there was no real hope for a future? Then he had met Rogue and never had his fate seemed so endlessly cruel. Ororo had told him not to give up; love without touch was possible…Look at Rogue and Logan. In fact, Ororo had told him that with him, Rogue would finally have found a person who she’d never feel jealousy towards and who she’d never fear she was keeping from having a ‘real’ relationship. They’d both be unable to go all the way but he would be able to do everything with her that Logan could, including stealing a quick kiss. Despite Ororo’s support, Remy had never truly believed he had a chance. Rogue had begun to seriously date Logan and his own needs had fought his conscience. She deserved better; at least Logan wouldn’t die on her…but then Logan could practically live forever so the pain of being left behind would just be Logan’s instead of Rogue’s. Well, all that wasn’t really important anymore. Rogue was out of his reach, probably always had been, and Ororo, his one true and constant support and his home, for to him she was home and not a house or mansion, she was now gone forever.

Remy’s lips curved in a sarcastic little smile. God or whoever kept track of things sure didn’t seem to like him much, did He? Oh, well, Remy had gotten used to that by now. What he hadn’t gotten used to, even if he thought he had, was the pain of losing the one person he had loved so strongly and standing here in front of another who would never love him back. A phantom containing all his romantic and unattainable dreams - that was what she was.

“Come with me, Cheré, and I’ll give you everything you want,” Remy flirted with a seductive smile that only after so many years managed to fool anybody at all.

“Remy,” she said with a smile, his words having lifted her spirits as he had hoped but above her head Logan gave the young man a half warning and half sad look.

Logan was a warrior before he was anything else. He could never imagine he would be able to live knowing there was an invisible enemy inside him like Remy did. Most of the time he treated Remy like anyone else, knowing the kid would wish it that way, but sometimes he remembered all the hardship the young thief had gone through and it was enough to make even his jaded heart flinch in sympathy. Then Logan’s turn came up and his attention was forced onto the thing someone had called food.

The group seated themselves by a table and began to eat. Peter and Kitty joined them and, when the discussion was on them, Peter told them all of Kitty’s child and his proposal. The tone at the table was forced cheerfulness as they discussed her wedding, trying to forget the young girl wouldn’t have anything that even resembled a normal wedding. The thought made Jean give Scott’s hand a warm squeeze, grateful that they had managed to marry before all this had begun. Remy had thrown himself into the discussion, congratulating the couple and promising he would get something special for them. With his charm and skills, no one doubted he could do it and Scott was just glad to see the often distant young man getting involved and acting alive. After Ororo’s death he had been very hard to reach and had only seemed to light up around Rogue and even that seemed forced. Even under the best of circumstances, Remy had a hard burden to bear and the teachers were always looking out for him, afraid he might suffer from depression because of the bad hand fate had dealt him. Fortunately, so far he had been strong and had met life’s blows one by one but Scott knew that at some point everyone fell. His attention returned to the debate where Peter and Kitty settled on doing some kind of plain ceremony like they did at city hall because she was Jewish and he was Russian Catholic and neither knew each other’s wedding vows. They decided to ask Xavier to do the simple ceremony and then ask Black Thunder who got them off to work each day about weddings among the slaves and how such things were normally done.

They had finished their meal and were exchanging light conversation, playing at normality when Scott noticed a group of soldiers that had stuck their head inside the dinning hall. They looked around and their eyes settled on the X-Men’s table. The look of need and lust in their faces worried Scott and made him hold Jean closer against him. He knew what had happened to Ororo, it still gave him nightmares to even think about it, not to mention guilt trips, and he had sworn it would never happen to one of his people again. Even as he had made the oath he knew it would be next to impossible to keep but he was determined to try. As he looked at the other slaves he could understand why the soldiers were drawn to their table. Almost all the other women in the room were already marked by the hardship of their lives and the pain in body and mind. Kitty, Rogue and Jean were undoubtedly the most beautiful women in the room.

“Come, let’s go to our room,” Scott mumbled to Jean, wanting to get her away from the soldiers’ eyes, his unconscious denial about their situation clear in his choice of the word ‘room’ instead of what it was: their cell. She nodded acceptance and he rose before he helped Jean to her feet. After dining, the slaves could move about freely from the dining hall to their cells. Armed guards followed their every move of course and by ten o’clock all slaves were locked up in their cells. It wasn’t like they posed a threat anyhow. They were unarmed and wore the collars. One push on a button and the slave in question would fall to the floor, screaming in agony. As long as they wore the collars they could not win.

“All right,” Jean agreed, the words unnecessary but she said them anyway. She would like to spend some time alone with Scott in the cell before the others came back. She took hold of his hand as they began to move away from the table.

“You be careful. I don’t like the looks those soldiers cast this way,” Scott warned as he moved away with Jean, his words addressed mostly to Logan because even without his powers he was the most battle trained among them.

“We will, Slim,” Logan said and hugged Rogue closer to him. He’d rather die than see her harmed in any way.

As Scott and Jean reached the hallway he saw that the seven soldiers who had watched their table were following them instead of remaining in the dinning hall as he had thought they would. He walked faster towards their cell and took off his shirt as he walked, not sure what to do but he had to do something. His heartbeat and respiration were coming quicker now and he fought to stay calm and not to panic even as forbidden memories and nightmares about his torture and the fate he imagined Ororo had suffered from flashed before his eyes.

“Here, take this,” Scott said and handed Jean his shirt. It was the same faded white t-shirt that Cecilia had given him but he had been happy when he had seen that the slaves were allowed to take weekly baths and wash their clothes. Amazing how such simple things could bring such joy.

“Why? What am I to do with this?” She asked in confusion but as she turned and looked behind them and spotted the guards, fear entered her eyes. She had loved Ororo as a sister and still grieved her death, though with the life she now led, there was little time for tears. Only in her nightmares could she imagine what kind of agony the beautiful white-haired woman had had to endure before death had claimed her. A part of Jean that she didn’t want to acknowledge was relieved that Ororo had been the one who was gone and not her, and that thought had her on her knees from grief and guilt unless she fought to control her emotions and thoughts.

“Use it as a veil. Cover your face,” Scott urged her, not sure what he was saying or if it even made a difference but he had to do something, anything. “Maybe they’ll pass us.” His voice held more hope than anything else as he reached over and put the shirt around her face, tightening the ends beneath her face. Jean lifted it up, trying to cover the lower half of her face as well as her hair, thinking if she could conceil she was a woman they would be able to make it without incident. It was a desperate move; they both knew that but they had to do something, anything at all, however far fetched. Their hearts beat so wildly in their chests they seemed to deafen them and never had the hallways seemed this long. Never had they prayed so much as they both feverishly did now as they prayed they would reach their cell and that the soldiers would pass them by.

“Stop!” one of the guards behind them demanded, freezing the blood in their veins to ice. Jean looked at Scott, her eyes wide with fear.

“Keep moving,” Scott hissed and urged her forward, feeling his own fear rise. He had to get her to safety…Please, if someone was listening to him up there then please just let him get her to safety and he would be content to accept any price that help would demand of him.

“Stop or we will shoot!” another voice demanded and Scott reluctantly drew to a halt and Jean did likewise. They waited, their angst building until the soldiers reached them.

“Why were you in such a hurry to get away, mutant? That you have only one eye shouldn’t prevent you from seeing us and so far your ears don’t seem to be damaged,” one of the guards said to Scott. He was a big man with a not unpleasant face.

“I…We just wanted to have a few moments alone,” Scott explained and eased Jean behind him as slowly as possible as to not draw attention to what he was doing. Had this been in another time, another place, she would have stood beside him, unafraid. But not today. Not now. They both knew what was at stake here and that this was a battle that they would lose before it had even begun.

“She is your woman, slave?” the big one asked again and nodded towards Jean who wisely tried to make herself invisible.

“She is,” Scott answered, fighting to keep his voice even, praying the truth was the right way to go with this.

“Very well. Move on but next time stop when ordered. Disobedience like that will earn you punishment, probably the loss of an ear,” the guard warned and turned to go. Scott and Jean drew relieved breaths, silently thanking any deity who would listen as they started to move away.

“Stop!” a young guard ordered and Scott and Jean was forced to do so. “You…” he pointed to Jean, “Step forward and remove the veil,” he demanded and Scott didn’t like the flash of lust in his eyes. He doubted that he even cared all that much about how she looked. He just wanted someone. His demand was probably more to show his power than anything else. Scott had a sick feeling in his stomach that this battle was already lost but he couldn’t give up, wouldn’t give up.

“Is this really…” Scott began, trying for a soft and reasoning tone but a guard hit him hard in the face, making him fall to the floor, efficiently silenced. The young guard rudely grabbed Jean and tore the T-shirt off her and threw it at the floor.

“Scott!” she yelled as she fiercely fought against the man. She succeeded in kicking him in the balls and he lost his grip on her but as she ran to Scott another guard grabbed her.

“Jean!” Scott yelled and stood up, not even noticing the blood coming from his broken lip in his concern for her. He tried to run to her but two guards held him back.

“Scott!” Jean yelled again, fear clear in her voice, fear for him and for herself as she kicked out at the guard holding her.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? But I’ll cure that real fast,” the young guard said as another guard helped the first one so she too was held by two guards as the young soldier hit her in the face. Had the guards not held on to her, the power of the blow would have sent her to the floor.

“You leave her alone, you bastards!” Scott spat and again fought against the two men who held him. He kicked out and broke free but a third guard blocked his way and he was caught again.

“Damn mutant slave!” one of the guards who had held him said angrily and while the two others held him up, he hit Scott in the stomach, making him buckle over but the guards forced him upwards again for another hit.

“What are you doing? This isn’t protocol,” the big man protested but the young guard looked angrily at him.

“We are entitled to some pleasures and that we’ll have. You don’t want to, you can leave,” he hissed and forced Jean’s head to stay still by placing strong hands on either side of her head so he could force his tongue into her mouth.

“For Gods sake,” the big one said and shook his head. Seeing he couldn’t stop it, he left the scene.

“No, help us,” Scott yelled after him but the man kept going, never looking back.

“Be thankful it is only the woman they will take,” the big man mumbled, his voice just loud enough to reach Scott’s ears, whose face became white with shock and terror as the implication of what was to happen to Jean hit him as well as a wave of shame over his instinct relief at being told he would not be harmed in such a way.

Anything else Scott wanted to say was cut short as he was hit again, all the air leaving his lungs. He felt and heard a rib break as one guard hit him in the chest with the butt of his rifle. The pain made him wince but that pain was nothing compared to what he felt as he looked at Jean. The bastard had now torn off her blouse, leaving her naked to the waist.

“Leave…her…be,” Scott got out through pained breaths.

“Will you shut him the fuck up. I can’t concentrate,” the young guard complained as his eager fingers stroked Jean’s face. She bit after his finger, anger blazing in her eyes, for a moment fighting back her fear and he drew his hand to him and hit her across the face again, her face flying to the side.

“Now, be a good girl and stand still,” he demanded as he grabbed her under the chin and forced her to face him. His fingers ran over her chest and breasts and she shivered and fought uselessly against the guards who held her.

“You can take my body but it will not be me. It will not be me!” Jean cried out, tears forming in her eyes as he took forth a knife and cut away her pants and underwear, leaving her naked and shivering in the dark and cold hallway.

“Jean,” Scott got out as he saw her. He had to get to her. He had to. He tried again to come to her but by now he was so weak that the only resistance he could give the guards was a joke.

“I told you to shut him up,” the young guard complained as he undid his pants and Jean tried to draw back from him. Her eyes found Scott’s and suddenly she wished they’d just knock him unconscious. She didn’t want him to see this.

“Damn mutant won’t shut up,” the guard in front of Scott complained as he hit Scott again. He heard another rib break and the two guards who had held him, let him fall to the floor.

“Jeannnn,” Scott whispered weakly as he lay on the cold stone floor and reached out his hand to her. Jean fought not to say anything as the guard touched her breasts with one hand, with the other touching her genitals. She bit her lip till it bled, refusing to call for Scott or scream. Scott shouldn’t hear this; she could spare him that much at least. She would not cry out. Those words became a mantra in her mind as she repeated it over and over again.

“Persistent fellow,” a guard observed almost casually as the three men looked down at him before blows began to rain all over him. He tried to avoid their kicks and tried to crawl towards Jean but a kick to his midsection made him fall flat on his stomach. A kick to his head made him lose her from his vision as he had just seen the young guard touch her, getting ready to rape her. The blows made him instinctively curl up in a ball to protect his head and chest from the blows. It was no use however as the blows kept coming. He hadn’t noticed that the two guards who had held Jean up for the young guard had come to watch his attempts to protect Jean and himself. He hadn’t seen the young guard press Jean up against the cold wall, pinning her between the wall and his own body. He bled from countless wounds and had several broken ribs but what hurt him the most was the scream that was torn from Jean’s lips when the guard forced himself inside her and she was no longer able to keep her pain inside despite her best attempts to do so.

“Jeannnnnnnnnn,” Scott’s weak voice carried weight before darkness finally claimed him as the blows kept coming.

“Scott,” Jean yelled desperately as she looked at him lying defenceless on the floor, kicks and blows raining all over his body, still weak from the torture earlier. For a second her own pain was forgotten as he suddenly lay still, looking dead. Very dead. Oh, God. Scott!

“I’d worry about myself if I was you,” the young guard said with a leer as he touched her lips with one hand and again she tried to bite him but it was a weak gesture. Tears stained her cheeks; tears for Scott. He laughed at her weak attempt at resistance. “When I’m through with you, no man will ever want to touch you again. Not even that…thing you call mate,” he spat angrily, irritated that she had been focusing on her mutant while he was with her.

He held her up in a crude embrace, pressing up back against the wall while the other men went to see if they couldn’t get some fun out of Scott. His hands were soon all over her and her attempts to escape were useless. He was much stronger than she, especially after more than a month on that stuff some misguided fool had called food, and she had never trained in hand to hand combat without the aid of her powers. As he drew back and rammed into her again, the pain inside her exploded as it had the first time he had forced his way inside her and she cried out again but her eyes closed, the tears forcing their way through her closed lids. She thought of Scott. Of a trip they had taken to Hawaii last year. She thought of the sun and the stars. She thought of his love and she thought of the warm sand beneath her feet. Suddenly the pain grew distant until it faded away, replaced by the images she called to her mind. Lost in her own mind as deeply as only a telepath could, Jean’s body became limp in the guard’s arms and a small smile was on her face as she succeeded in escaping to another time, another place: a place that existed only in her mind.


	20. Rogue and Logan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogue and Logan are attacked and say I love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Threat of sexual assault, violence....

## Chapter 20: Rogue and Logan

“I think we have given the lovebirds enough time alone,” Logan said good-naturedly as he pulled Rogue up with him. “You coming?” he asked over his shoulder at Kitty and Peter. Kitty sat in Peter’s lap, their hands intertwined, lost in their own world.

“You just go ahead. We’ll come when they call at ten,” Peter answered but looked into Kitty’s eyes and not at them. After their capture they had all realised that time was something they might not have an ocean of and thus they tried to steal some private moments whenever they could. To give the couples some privacy, Bobby had walked to another table and now tried to stir up a conversation with some of the other slaves while Remy was trying to explain some card tricks to some younger children without the aid of cards, which wasn’t easy.

“Alright. Make sure Bobby and Remy are with you when you go back,” Logan said to Peter as he took Rogue by the hand and walked out of the dining hall. As soon as they were out in the hallway and he had made sure there were no other guards than the ones stationed at intervals near the walls, Logan took Rogue in his arms and kissed her.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you, Marie?” Logan asked seriously as they drew apart. He touched her face, enjoying the feel of her. They had touched and kissed but still he hadn’t been able to bring himself to make love to her in this place. He wanted to give her more than that. She deserved the first time to be more, to be better, to be perfect.

“With everything but words,” Rogue answered happily, her whole being radiating joy as she kissed him again. “And I love you,” she added warmly as she drew back and Logan smiled. A movement caught his eye and he saw four guards coming towards them. He recognized them as being friends with the group that Scott had warned them about earlier and were men of the same shady character.

He silently cursed himself for having allowed himself to relax into Marie’s love instead of proceeding with caution. It was always a risk to walk the hallway alone, though often it was an acceptable risk. However, the guards were less likely to try something with several slaves walking together as they knew it was a breach of protocol as Black Thunder had told Xavier. Rules were made to be broken, though, and some of the guards did break these rules as often as they could.

“Come.” He kept his tone light as not to worry her as he took hold of her hand and quickly more or less dragged her towards their cell. Coming from the dining hall, one could walk two ways to their cell. Scott always walked right which made Logan always walk left. It wasn’t something he actually thought about; it was just that some habits died hard and having a standing argument about which route was the shortest way to their cell was a nice play at normalcy. Both men of course claimed they had guessed right.

“Stop or we’ll shoot,” a guard shouted and Logan reluctantly drew to a stop, Rogue doing the same beside him. She looked up at him, scared, as the men drew nearer and he knew that if his heightened mutant senses had worked he would be able to smell her fear.

“I’ll never let them hurt you,” Logan vowed softly and hugged her close to him as the guards caught up with them.

“Well, well. What have we here? A pretty little thing,”one of the guards said and reached for Rogue, touching her face and she flinched, drawing back from his touch.

“Get your filthy hands off my woman!” Logan yelled. A fury unlike anything he had ever felt consumed him and for the first time he let it take complete control. Acting like an animal and not a man, he pushed his mate behind him and snarled at the guards before he jumped at them. His rage made it possible for him to ignore the pain of popping his claws and he lashed out after them. One of the guards activated his collar but he was too consumed by his anger to feel the pain. He got his hands on one guard and broke his neck. Throwing the body to the ground, he jumped the guard with the control and began slashing at him. The man lost the control he had activated Logan’s collar with, his chest a bloody mess of sharp claw wounds as Logan dropped him to the floor, going after the last two guards. Rogue ran to the control and picked it up. She tried to push some buttons to stop the pain the collar was giving Logan.

“Fingerprints not recognised,”a computer voice from the control panel said. Feeling panic rise in her, Rogue ran to the dead man and forced his finger onto the stop button.

“Non living being. Cannot comply,” the female computer voice said again and Rogue looked desperately around. Logan was still fighting the third guard but now his friend had come to his aid and Logan seemed to be losing, his anger no longer enough to keep him up. The agony of having his claws out became too much and he had to draw them back but still fought to get the jump on the two men. Desperate and panicked, afraid she might not be able to stop the pain Logan was in, Rogue made a last desperate gamble as she threw the control against the wall with all her strength and it broke into a thousand pieces. Logan stood up straighter, agony disappearing from his face as the pain disappeared and with a roar he broke both men’s necks, killing them instantly. For a moment he just stood there, the two bodies lying by his feet, their blood on his hands. Then he sank to his knees in exhaustion, his breath coming in deep gasps. Rogue heard guards coming towards them and quickly ran to Logan. She gave him a brief hug before she helped him to his feet. He quickly looked her over to assure himself that she was uninjured. He sidestepped the guards with a disinterested look. Killing had always come easy to him and he had no regrets for what he had done. Even though he would never know for sure what the guards might have done, if anything at all, he had felt a threat from them towards Marie and that had been enough to make the Wolverine inside him come to the surface. The Wolverine was such an integrated part of him that not even the collars could hold it back.

“I’m okay,” he mumbled but still leaned a little against her as she helped him towards their cell. She walked as fast as she could with him, adrenaline pumping through her and overriding her fear. At last they reached the cell and she got them both to sit on the only bed in the cell.

Finally safe, the rush of the moment disappeared and with it the full impact of what had just happened hit her. She had seen Logan kill those men…Those men who might had..…might had..… Tears began to fall and even as she tried to get her breathing under control it rose to a panic.

”Marie, lov. Don’t cry. I can take anything but your tears,” Logan whispered and took her into his embrace, stroking her hair. He fought off the last of the pain, pushing it to the back of his mind. Marie was more important. He briefly wondered why Scott and Jean weren’t here but decided they had probably stopped to talk in the hallway or had gone back to the dining hall, taking the right corridor.

“Touch me, hold me. Tell me you’ll never leave me,” Rogue begged and Logan took her under the chin, lifting her face so she could see his eyes.

“I promise I will always protect you. I love you,” he said softly and brought his lips to meet hers. She drew him closer, deepening the kiss and her tears stilled. His hands played with the buttons on the front of her blouse until he had opened it enough so he could lift it off her. He didn’t stop to consider what he was doing. She seemed to need this and so he did. He wanted to feel her, reassure himself that she was all right.

“Ah love you,” Rogue whispered as Logan kissed her again, his hands going to her chest. He stopped what he was doing and looked seriously at her, fighting his need and desire long enough to ask her, “Is this what you really want?” His voice was rough with want and desire as were his eyes. In the heat of their passion and love the horrible memory of what had just happened was beginning to disappear to be replaced by new and beautiful memories of their love.

She smiled warmly at him.“Yes, this is what Ah want. This is what Ah need. Touch me, let me know you’re real,” she begged and Logan kissed her again before removing his shirt and laying it on the floor before them; the bed was too small to make love on. He lifted her up and placed her gently down upon it before kissing her again.

“I love you, Marie,” Logan whispered as he removed the rest of her clothes. “You are so beautiful,” he said in awe as he looked upon her naked body and she blushed before pulling him towards her again.

“Ah love you too, Logan. Let me show you how much,” Rogue whispered as her tongue entered his mouth and she explored, tasting his breath and feeling his teeth before playing tag with his tongue. Logan deepened the kiss and showed her that two could play that game. The two lovers were for a long time ignorant of anything but each other as they let their passion and love run free.


	21. An Unlikely Saviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Thunder comes to Scott's aid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter for this week's last big update. I hope someone enjoys it in these hard times.  
> If you liked it then I would love it if you left kudos and a comment. It would make my day so please do consider it; even just an emoji. Thank you. :)

## Chapter 20: An Unlikely Saviour

He had to get away. He couldn’t do anything anyway. Joe almost ran down the corridor in a failed attempt to escape the red-haired slave’s screams and the brown-haired slave’s protests. When the woman’s cry echoed through the hallway Joe knew that he had to do something. He was an older man and had a daughter himself. He couldn’t picture anything worse than seeing her go through what the red-haired woman was. And not just that - he knew the young guard, Paul, was out of control. His hate for the mutant race was so strong that Joe feared he’d fulfil his threat of harming the woman so severely that she’d break down and be unable to work. 

He had reached the end of the hallway and now stood before the offices. He couldn’t report this to the captain. He’d never understand. To show sympathy towards the slaves meant that one considered them capable of emotions and that meant they were human. Joe didn’t like what was being done against the mutant race but if they really were as dangerous as he had been told he wanted his family to be safe. He would have preferred if the mutants were just exiled to an island or something but that wasn’t up to him. Even if he got the captain to believe he only reported the attack because he feared the slaves would be so broken they couldn’t work anymore, he was sure he would be disciplined for not doing something sooner or for ratting out his comrades, the latter if not by the captain then by his fellow soldiers when the news got around. No, the captain was out of the question. He knew the captain would stop it because he hated that kind of break in discipline but he also hated squealers. He’d receive punishment as well. His eyes settled on Michael’s office. He barely knew the man. He was in many ways the captain’s right hand man and almost as feared among the soldiers and mutants as he was hated. But he did supervise the health of the slaves and when it came down to it, he was a mutant himself. Fearing the worst, Joe entered Michael’s office. It was a very small office, only large enough for a very small desk and one chair behind it. Michael was rarely in the office unless to do some paperwork someone had ordered him to do. Joe’s eyes found Michael who was standing next to his chair, his eyes searching a desk drawer.

“Yes?” the mutant asked as his eyes found Joe’s and closed the drawer, pulling a gun out from it and checking it for bullets while he waited for Joe’s answer. 

_Oh, this is looking promising_ , Joe thought darkly, fighting to keep his fear under control.

“Hmm…I…” Joe began and didn’t know how to say it.

“I’m on a time schedule here. Can we get on with it?” Michael asked, his voice low and emotionless as if he didn’t sense the other man’s nervousness.

“Down the corridor…towards cell block 32…there…that is...” Joe gave up again and Michael’s eyes narrowed as he read something in what Joe didn’t say that he didn’t like.

“Return to your post and send the cleaning team to me,” Michael ordered as he went past Joe, his gun at the ready in his hand. He hurried down the corridor towards the cellblock and took the left way around. He spotted four guards lying on the floor and checked them. Dead. Necks broken on three of them and one had slashes as from a knife all over his chest. He picked up one of the three remaining unbroken controls to the collars and saw on the small screen the last minutes of the guards’ life. The controls where made so they automatically recorded when the carrier’s heartbeat quickened so when any rebellious slaves were found, they could quickly be identified and terminated. He saw two slaves, one a small, fragile looking woman with brown hair with white streaks in it and one man, grim in appearance, strong in build with fury in his eyes. It was some of the mutants that had been captured with Storm. He frowned in annoyance. Why did they have to be so much trouble? Damn. He couldn’t just execute them. Storm would never forgive him for that and for some reason that meant a lot to him.

He lifted his small handheld com-link to his lips and said into it, “Michael to cleaning team; come to hallway left to cell block 32. Four bodies to be picked up.”

“Slaves?” a voice asked.

“No, guards.”

“Cause of death?” the voice inquired further and for once Black Thunder was sad that he had been so damn efficient when he had been told to bring order to the whole process around punishment and death for the soldiers and guards. Black Thunder gathered the remaining controls and threw them against the wall and they shattered as well, destroying the only evidence to what had happened. He needed to think of something fast…

“Broken neck for three of them and knife wounds to the chest for the last. I saw these guards in the act of breaking discipline rule 67c. the slaves in question fought back and the result was four dead guards and four broken controllers.”

Discipline rule 67c was damaging goods, a.k.a. slaves, without permission like attempting to rape or kill them. Minor things, like a few whip strokes or hits was always permitted and was not considered a breach of discipline. “I heard the noise and came as quickly as possible. During the fight all the controls broke. I’ll bring in the slaves in question later,” Black Thunder explained and knew he needed to find someone to punish for this; slaves who had ruined the controls to the collars had to be punished even in this situation. No matter what, four dead guards was a serious offence; far too serious to be forgotten. He would have to bring in at least three slaves to blame for this. Best scenario for them would be that he could get them executed quickly. However, he was sure that PIA, the Prison Investigation Service, would interrogate the slaves he brought in to be sure this was not be beginning of a mutant or slave rebellion. Getting Storm’s friends killed was not the way to get what he wanted from her and though he wasn’t quite sure what that was yet, he knew it was neither fear nor hate. No, he would pick out a few slaves who had more or less already outlived their usefulness whose last useful task would be to die. The slaves could protest all they wanted about how they hadn’t done anything; no one would believe a slave and given his station his word would be believed for they would not believe he had any reason to lie. To them, and to him for a very long time, one slave was of no more or no less worth than another was. Yes, this could work. To his joy the voice on the other end seemed to think so too because when he had explained that he had seen the slaves the person spoke again and said that the cleaning team was on its way.

Black Thunder ran through the hallway and cast a look into the X-Men’s cell and saw the two mutants sitting close to each other, the woman leaning against the man’s chest. Their clothes were rugged; betraying together with the glow that seemed to be around them that they had recently made love. Their apparent happiness sent a wave of anger through Black Thunder. Not only for their happiness which seemed out of place but also for all the risks and trouble they had put him through with their stunt in the hallway.

The hallway was a circle so when he passed the cell he went into the right corridor, back towards the dining hall and his office further away. Coming around a corner he saw six guards and two slaves. One guard, Paul, held a knife in front of the woman’s face and a deep line ran across her cheek, blood running from it and dripping onto the floor. She was naked and he could see bruises, cuts and marks on her body. The marks were all fresh but it was the look in her eyes that made him sick. She held the same look of emptiness as Storm had when he had found her, except this one was smiling as if she was remembering something beautiful, something nice that only she could see. On the floor, now a bloody mess, lay the man whom he had brought to Cecilia earlier.

“Stop. At once!” Black Thunder demanded and the guards moved away from the two mutants. As the red haired woman fell to the floor, her hands went out in front of her as if she reached for the unconscious man by her side, their broken bodies lying a little apart on the naked and cold floor.

“We were just havin’ some fun, mate,” Paul said with an evil leer, “but then a _mutant_ as yourself would probably not understand that.” The sight of the broken woman threatened to bring Black Thunder to his knees with a powerful and painful flashback but he fought the memory down.

“I understand just fine,” Black Thunder replied and his tone held a dangerous edge that made the others look with fearful eyes at their leader. Paul must have sensed the change in him for he reached for his gun, only to be cut down by Black Thunder’s. The shot caught Paul clean in the chest and he was dead before his body touched the floor. He pointed his weapon at the others, his eyes a bit glassy from the strain of trying to force back memories he wished he could forget.

“Hey, we didn’t touch the woman. We didn’t do anything,” one protested and drew back as his hand went to his weapon. Those words reminded Black Thunder of words he had spoken that fateful night: ‘I didn’t do anything.’ He had mumbled that, not understanding why he was being punished so painfully and in such a humiliating way. Flashes of pain, blood, tears and humiliation made his blood boil.

“You should have,” Black Thunder whispered as he fired and killed the man going for his weapon. The others raised their hands above their heads.

“We surrender,” one said for all of them and to show it they put their weapons on the ground.

“You didn’t do anything,” Black Thunder mumbled but one of the disarmed men took it like a question and he shook his head, fear in his eyes as it was in the others.

“No, we didn’t.”  
  


Black Thunder’s eyes hardened and became cold as steel. Past and present merged as he fired several shorts rapidly after each other, each one hitting a guard in the chest, killing him.

“You should have helped her, helped me,” Black Thunder whispered but no one heard and the naked walls repelled his words as if they tasted badly. He took a deep breath, trying to get his head together as he holstered his weapon in his belt. At least this situation was clear. The guards still had their controls intact and, though the captain might complain a little, the guards would all have been killed anyway for their break in discipline; he just saved someone the time and effect.

For a moment the sight of the woman’s naked and violated body held him captive as he fought waves of memories but then, with a determined shake of his head, he forced himself out of it. He went to her while he took off his jacket, suddenly grateful that the captain had asked him to attend a formal trial hearing with him in an hour or so where he would be required to wear it. He checked her body for serious injuries and had to fight down a wave of nausea, as he had to look at her thighs and her genitals to see if she had any serious injuries. Relieved to find that he had got to her quickly enough for all cuts to be minor he cradled his jacket around the red-haired woman and lifted her up in his arms. Without a word he carried her to her cell. He wished he could take her to Cecilia but he had no grounds for that. Physically, she was fit for work. All the cuts he had seen on her body were minor and superficial and he had seen enough rape victims to know that she had only been raped once and the damage seemed to be only minor tears.

“What the fuck…?” The man in the cell began, shocked as he saw Black Thunder moving towards the cell with Jean in his arms.

“Jean??” The woman asked, shocked as well. Black Thunder saw the fury in the other man’s eyes as he stood up and dragged the woman with him, standing protectively before her. Not taking any chances after the handiwork he had seen in the corridor, Black Thunder activated the force field and stopped outside it while Logan growled warningly at him from the other side.

“I’ll push her through now. Catch her,” he ordered as he opened the force field and pushed the red-haired woman through. Logan moved forward and caught her in his arms as the force field fell back in place behind her. He saw her blind stare and the bruises and cuts and quickly guessed the reason.

“You bastard!” he spat as he tried to cover her body in the jacket wrapped around her, not knowing it was Black Thunder’s. Black Thunder looked as if Logan’s words had struck him like a physical blow and he seemed to want to say something but in the end he said nothing; he simply left, the woman’s cries and the man’s curses following him. He reached the brown-haired man he had taken to Cecilia earlier and took him in his arms.

_Didn’t that kid know how to stay out of trouble?_ Black Thunder thought with annoyance as he carried him to sickbay, Scott’s short time as a slave had Black Thunder thinking of him as a kid and not the twenty-seven year old man he was; in here age was never measured in years.

Two visits to sickbay in a month, Black Thunder thought grimly about Scott as he carried him through the hallway, trying to think of something besides how heavy and unwieldy the unconscious man was. He certainly didn’t make it easy for him to try and keep him out of too much trouble.

“Healer!” he yelled for Cecilia as he entered sickbay and laid the man, Cyclops, on a free bed. Damn, he still remembered his name. He had done his best to forget all he had read about the X-men in their files, including their names. Knowledge had a tendency to create understanding and sympathy and he could not afford that. In his mind, their names had by now all been replaced by their slave number. All but Cyclops, and Storm. Why did Cecilia also have to tell him? Information voluntary given to him without the aid of bribery or threats was something he remembered because it happened so rarely in his line of work. He would have done just fine getting the slaves to and from work without knowing anything about them.

“Oh, hey. I was...” she began with a smile as she came towards him but stopped as she saw the man. “Now what have you done?” she asked angrily as she went to his side and examined Scott, casting him furious looks.

“Me?” Black Thunder raised his hands in mock surrender. “He got himself into trouble this time, Medicine Woman,” Black Thunder protested.

“Oh, my God! Scott,” a young female voice said and Black Thunder saw a young Asian woman with a leg in a splint limping towards them.

Jubilee looked at Scott’s bloodied body and for the nth time wished Bobby worked in sickbay with her. She needed his smile and laughter now more than ever. Well, it wasn’t like she’d ever admit that, of course. Why she wouldn’t she wasn’t so sure about anymore; she just knew it wasn’t how they played this game, whatever it was.

“Stay away, girl, and have the old man brought over here,” Black Thunder ordered and the young woman stared angrily at him.

“He’s over there. You bring him,” she snapped at him.

Black Thunder looked at her through narrowed eyelids and heard Cecilia’s muffled laughter. With slaves nearby, who could hear her comment, he had to act on it and his open palm connected to her cheek in a slap which surprised her more than it pained her. He rarely punished her, but when he did he never used all of his strength; the stroke never hard enough to leave any marks.

“I may have allowed you to walk a thin line here, girl but remember…there is a line. Do not overstep it again,” Black Thunder warned her evenly. As the few times before when he had disciplined her he did not wish to kill her spirit but just wanted to make sure she understood that there was a certain line he would not allow her to cross.

Jubilee had never lost an inch of her defiant attitude and she had fought Black Thunder every step of the way, shocking him the first time she had done so. Besides Cecilia, no one dared to speak up against him. He held her life in his hands and could have her severely punished for anything she did, or just if he felt like it. This threat didn’t do a thing to kill her sharp tongue. He normally let her get away with her comments as long as they did not go too far, because she normally did what he ordered her to do despite her loud complaints and he had to admit that he enjoyed to, for once, speak with someone who didn’t speak to him with hate, contempt or fear. It wasn’t something he would allow in anyone but like Cecelia then Jubilee had come along and managed to have an attitude which prompted him to walk a thin line of tolerance. However, he had at one time slapped her face hard for a particularly nasty insult when she had refused to do as he had ordered and had told him to go do something, which was anatomically impossible. She had taken her defiance down a little after that, rarely refusing his orders but was still as spunky as ever when she complained about them. Despite his annoyance at her, he had to admit the girl had courage. As said, normally he didn’t punish her or object too much about her attitude because she still did what she was told. Normally being the key word here, and Black Thunder sighed. Discipline was going right out the window here and he didn’t like it.

“As you wish,” Jubilee managed to say it with just enough sarcasm to make it noticeable but not enough to anger him. He had to strangle a smile at her spirit. He knew he could break it, and quite easily given her young age and the fact that she had never been trained to withstand torture, but he did not wish to. He turned away from her and walked over to find Xavier for himself, thinking to himself that the young Chinese girl would be unable to get anyone to follow her order to move the professor anyway, though with her sharp wit and no nonsense attitude he doubted that was true. He found the older man sitting by a woman’s bedside, holding her hand and talking in a calming tone to her even though she just stared up in the ceiling. He recognised the woman as Gabrielle, who he had brought here himself some months’ back.

“You can forget her. She is dead in everything but body. Help the living instead,” he said sharply as he picked the professor up and carried him towards the other man’s bed.

“She’ll wake up. I’m sure of it,” the professor said confidently.

“You’re sure? Where? In your mind or in your heart?” Black Thunder whispered as he carried him over to Cyclops’ bedside and placed him in a chair. Before Xavier could reply or even fully consider it, he saw who he had been brought to help heal and drew a pained breath in shock and surprise.

“Scott!” the older man whispered and his voice held pain as did his eyes.

“He’ll be alright,” Cecilia calmed him. “But I need your help with bandaging him. He has some broken ribs, bruises and cuts. Here, give me a hand…” she asked and he began helping her make a tight bandage around Scott’s ribs. The Asian woman stood and watched with pained eyes at the man and Black Thunder took a hand and put it behind her back and moved her away.

”You’re not helping anyone by standing there. Look to the other patients,” Black Thunder said as gently as he could and, although he saw the instant denial in her eyes, a nod from the professor made her mumble an ‘okay’ and she left. On his way out, a young man came from further down the sickbay. He carried some dirty bandages in his hands.

“Mr. Summers?” the man said in disbelief and horror as he saw the man lying on the bed.

“He’s in good hands,” Black Thunder commented as he passed him.

“I know,” John answered softly as he watched Cecilia work. She really was incredible. All this pain and death, yet she kept on working. She never gave up. She was so filled with life and strength. In the time he had worked with her, he had found her to be the only sane thing in a world that had suddenly been turned upside down. Without her to look forward to, he doubted he could have managed to live like this. Like an animal in a cage. And just being here, seeing all that death and sorrow was enough to drive him mad with frustration, helplessness and pain. It was one thing to see so many people coming in here beaten and broken, but to see them die, to know that they were just burned, their ashes spread into the winds or thrown somewhere in a big grave while a number was erased from a list. That was all: nothing more to their entire life than an erased number from a list. It made him sick just to think about that he too had been reduced to a number. That was all they were, work numbers and files. In his bitterness he caught Cecilia’s brown eyes and she gave him a small encouraging smile before giving her full attention to Scott again. That Cecilia had been able to survive for so long, and still keep a part of her humanity with her was beyond him. He couldn’t help smiling back at her. She was the light to the dark world where he now lived. One day he’d tell her that. Tell her that her smile was what he thought of at night and her voice was the voice that comforted him when he felt alone. She was a beacon of light for him. In a world filled with cruelty, she fought for life.

“Yeah, I think you do,” Black Thunder mumbled to John as he went towards the door. ”Cecilia, I’ll bring him back to his cell in two days. Have him ready,” he called over his shoulder as he exited.

What was it he had been ordered to do before all this started? Oh, yes. A guard had been accused of helping slaves to escape and he was among those who would testify during his trail. Black Thunder knew the accusations to be false so he had been on his way to pick up the accusing soldier to ask him a few questions instead.


	22. Whoever Suffers In The Mind…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ororo has a hard time dealing with her new reality

## Whoever Suffers In The Mind…

Ororo felt like she was slowly dying, suffocating. Had the walls of Black Thunder’s room just moved in closer on her? Her breath came in gasps as she fought her fear and panic. She dug her fingernails into her palms, cutting bloody half moons into her own flesh. Focusing on the pain in her hands made her rising panic fade and finally she released her self-abused flesh.

She sat on the floor of the small room beside the only bed and fought hard to do something, anything, to keep her thoughts occupied. She had never feared having nothing to do before but she did now. Having so much time on her hands meant she had time to think about the dramatic changes in her life, think about that terrible night. She didn’t want to remember, she didn’t want to think about it but there was nothing for her to do all day. Black Thunder was up very early to start his work and didn’t come back till very late, leaving her alone all day in his room. He had removed all sharp objects from his room, he even took the plain forks with him when he left, leaving them in his office and brought them back and forth for their one meal a day; dinner. She had made no move to try and hurt herself so maybe it was to protect himself, not wanting to find her finding behind the door with a fork one evening. But this meant that she had nothing at all to do all day. Black Thunder had no books, nothing at all to occupy her time. The first day she had already memorised all details of his room and small bathroom as well as the only things in his drawers: a few clothes which he hadn’t removed. By now she could list his clothes in alphabetical order in all the four languages she could speak. She would shower four times a day but her thoughts kept returning and she still felt dirty. She tried to keep her mind busy to prevent flashbacks. She thought about how they might be able to escape but those ideas faded quickly, because she still knew so little about where they were but she hoped in time Black Thunder would tell her more. She thought about the others and recalled what Black Thunder told her about them. He always said good things: that they were alive and well. She wanted to believe that so she didn’t press him for more. She worried a lot about Remy. He had had a hard life and he had bonded so deeply with her. She wished Black Thunder would give in to her plea to tell him she was all right but he said it was too dangerous. He said Remy looked fine and that he was a good slave; he hadn’t started any trouble. It didn’t lessen her worry but she didn’t want to draw his attention to Remy, not trusting what he might do. Mostly to keep from getting too depressed she would do math in her head or count to 100 in different languages. After a few days she had begun to hold conversations out loud with an imaginary person, talking about nothing really but the silence broken by screams from the hallway was driving her insane and she needed something to take her mind off things. 

Sometimes she managed to keep the memories and flashbacks at bay. Sometimes not. When a terrible scream rocked the room she would flinch and fall to the floor as if hit.

“It’s not real. It’s not real,” she would mumble over and over again as she drew her knees to her chest and hugged herself, rocking back and forth.

When the screams kept going she rocked back and forth, tears down her cheeks and suddenly she’d find herself singing one of the songs Remy had started in the cell. Strange that she could actually miss that moment in time when they had been in that cell, singing. She would sing until her voice gave way to tears and she ended up in a ball on the floor, fighting to keep from remembering, fighting off the imaginary hands she felt on herself.

She wasn’t really sure if staying locked up in Black Thunder’s room was so much better than having gone back to her friends. At least she would have been with people she knew and trusted implicitly. At least she’d have something to do and someone to take care of, which would take her mind off herself and her nightmares. Living here was a nightmare of solitude, and sometimes the walls themselves seemed to be trying to drive her insane. The loneliness and frustration she was feeling was tearing her apart, making it harder and harder for her to keep the memories at bay, to keep from falling to pieces. She began to spend time doing things she would otherwise never had done. She would throw the pillows from the bed all over the room, unleashing her fury on them. She would sit still on the floor and look at her own hands, fascinated by their curves and small cuts, following the lines and folds in them with her eyes and fingertips. She would use her nails as knives against her skin, trying to see how hard she had to press before she made a tiny wound bleed. She would go to the bathroom and see how long she could stand a burning hot shower or an ice cold one on her naked body. The first didn’t happen so often simply because it wasn’t often Black Thunder got really hot water in his bathroom. When she got an idea like that, and she couldn’t make it work for some reason it would seem like the end of the world. One time, when she had wanted to take a burning hot shower and the water just wouldn’t get hot enough she cursed and began to cry. Fury, anger and frustration mixing together with so many emotions that she couldn’t even begin to name them all. She had ended up crying for almost an hour because she couldn’t get hot water; because she couldn’t burn herself with it. It seemed absurd afterwards but while she had cried, her mind had been blissfully blank and afterwards she had slept for a while from sheer exhaustion. 

But she knew this wasn’t working. The more desperately she tried to cling to her sanity, the more she tried to ignore her nightmares and memories, the more they were dragging her to the brink of destruction. Tonight she would ask Black Thunder for something, anything, to keep herself occupied with. Though she didn’t trust him, he had been good to her; he had brought her food and told her of her friends and had never once tried to touch her. She would ask him today. She wasn’t above begging him or something. She just needed some paper and a pen so she could sketch or draw, a book she could read. Anything! She was going out of her mind and her control was slipping. She would ask today, there had to be something she could focus on, something to keep her mind busy so she could forget what had happened to her, what had been done to her…and forget the things she had done here, in his small room to try and keep herself sane by doing things, which ended up with the opposite results. The duplicity of her situation had her laughing out loud for a while, a desperate laugh that turned into tears while she waited for Black Thunder to return.


	23. Between Duty And Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Thunder thinks about the captain and his feelings for Ororo

## Between Duty And Temptation

Black Thunder wasn’t going to think about her; he wasn’t going to think about anything. He would do his workout, and do some target practice in the guards gym that lay in the basement of the slave compound. He would not think about anything but to press his skills to their limit. There wasn’t anything to be done, not a thing that could be changed about the present situation anyway. Despite his best efforts, an image of the brown-skinned, white-haired female slave he had rescued came to his mind. Damn! He didn’t need this. Agitated, he corrected his aim on his gun and fired three fast shots towards the wooden statue of a man, hitting the doll straight in the heart all three times. He holstered his gun and went over to a punching bag in the gym, making the other guards present move out of his way, hate and fear evident in their eyes as they saw him. Damn them anyway, he thought darkly. He despised humans; they were all weak and cruel. The soldier he had interrogated earlier the same day about why he had falsely accused a guard of aiding slaves escape had cracked after only four hours of interrogation and Black Thunder hadn’t even done much more than threaten him and hit him a few times in the face; as he thought, humans were weak. After the soldier’s confession that he had lied because the other man had stolen his girl, Black Thunder had contacted the captain who had ordered him to shoot the soldier. An order he had followed with no emotions at all; it was an order to be carried out…nothing more.

Black Thunder practised hits and blocks, making sure every blow the punching bag received would be deadly had his opponent been a living being. Though he tried not to let them, his thoughts still wandered. So much had changed in the past weeks. Somehow Ororo had awakened feelings in him he had thought long dead. He tried to argue with himself that saving her had been nothing but an instinct he should have ignored, but he didn’t quite succeed in winning his argument. He had learned long ago that emotions and attachments equalled weakness and pain, and he desperately tried to fight this beginning weakness that Ororo was turning into. It was stupid to even begin to consider or dream; this was the real world and in the real world things never worked out and people ended up dead. His concern was only for himself…or it used to be. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure if that was still the case. Why had he saved Ororo’s friends? He had no reason to. He could have passed them by. Sure, he had never approved of the guards’ unwritten right to amuse themselves with the slaves as long as they did it discreetly in their spare time, and didn’t permanently damage the goods but he also knew he couldn’t stop them all and so he hadn’t. He had run a great risk today. Joe was a loose end; he could have seen what slave number 19845-b, the mutant the X-men called Wolverine, had done and thus he could rat Black Thunder out to the captain for not reporting the incident correctly, which would surely mean he’d be punished. Maybe he should kill Joe just to be sure he didn’t talk? He had no trouble doing so; Joe was human and no more to him than any other guard. However his disappearance would be noticed at once. Better to lay low for a while and wait and see.

Without thought, Thunder delivered hit after hit to the punching bag before he suddenly drew his knife and cut in the air where his opponent’s throat would have been.

“You’re dead,” Thunder whispered in a low voice. The captain would have been proud of that move; he had taught it to him himself. Suddenly he remembered back, back to when his training had begun…

* * *

Hit, kick, hit, kick, down, roll, up, hit-

His heel connected with the sandbag in a kick that could easily have killed a human. A hit followed, next an elbow in the solar plexus, then a fist hammered against the place that would have been the fragile throat on a living being.

“Harder!” a sharp voice snapped, and Black Thunder gasped, drawing much-needed oxygen into his burning lungs, trying to follow the captain’s orders and knowing deep down that he couldn’t.

He never could.

For each challenge he was given, another - and harder – one waited on the other side. Faster, stronger, more ruthless, more lethal, his twelve-year-old hands could kill in a heartbeat; his mind held no remains of a distant childhood, only cold determination.

Weakness was a demon, mercy was its altar, conscience was its crusader, bravely battling the darkness that invaded Black Thunder’s mind.

Another kick had him feeling the exhaust starting to set in. Hard military boots against the battered sandbag, again and again, each new movement a little harder, a little more efficient than the previous one. The crusader fought against it, trying to save the fragile mind beneath the brutal exterior, but was fighting a losing battle.

He didn’t want to be saved.

Mercy was death; he had seen that. The death of his family, his friends, all too weak and compassionate to fight, all victims to a hypocritical crusader that spoke of mercy but showed them none. He vaguely recalled his mother speaking of how good things would happen to good people and how evil men were always punished. He knew now that was nothing but a fairytale. Those who were noble and fought for the weak and the abused did not get to marry a princess and live happily ever after…they just died an early death. Death always won.

“Again!”

Black Thunder automatically obeyed the sharp order, kicking the sandbag again and again, until he felt something give up - not himself; never himself - but the seams that held the bag together. He gasped, feeling the air burning in his lungs, then stepped back and watched the stream of sand fall to the floor.

“Better. Not good, but better,” the gruff voice said, and the boy bowed his head slightly in admission of his shortcomings.

He wasn’t good, not yet, but he would change that. He would become what the captain wanted him to be; he’d make the man proud that he had chosen to take a small, frightened boy under his protective wings so long ago. Cold, lethal, obedient, devoted, dangerous, feared, admired, respected, merciless-

A killer.

No, not a killer, never a killer - he didn’t claim a life without reason; they deserved it, all of them, weak and scared as they were. And they hated him for it; he could see it in their eyes. They hated a twelve-year-old boy for the special training and treatment the captain gave him, and yet they feared him for who he was, what he could do…Maybe most of all for what he could become.

Everyone feared or hated him...that is everyone except the captain, who had seen his potential and accepted him as his protégé. And yes, it was hard, and yes, the punishment for failure was never pleasant, the scars on his back attested to that, but-

-But pain meant that he was loved. It meant that the captain cared enough to push Black Thunder to his limits and beyond, to let the boy claim the power that was rightfully his. Not like the others, his ‘family’, the prisoners, who all wanted him to be kind and generous and merciful, like them, and like them, the crusader would have *killed* him, he knew that.

They feared him, they feared his potential, and he hated them for it. They should have protected him, shouldn’t they, but instead they had, metaphorically speaking, cut off his wings and made him weak, fragile, helpless -

A prisoner like them when he knew he could be so much more.

He clenched his fists, felt the short nails dig into the flesh, but ignored it. He wasn’t human, not anymore. Once he would have wanted to be called human but not now; not anymore. Humans were either blind or stupid; blinded by their own hate and fears or stupidly afraid of their own shadow. Or they were weak and pathetic, letting their emotions rule their lives, speaking up for equality and freedom, speaking as if words would do them any good. He had seen what happened to humans who let their emotions control their actions: they died.

He was a survivor.

“You may take a break now,” the captain said, and Black Thunder bowed, then walked to the corner where two bottles of water were lying on the ground. He hated himself for being so weak that the captain had to let him relax before the training continued...if he had been good enough, his body, weak and fragile as it was, wouldn’t have needed the brief pause.

But that would change; he knew that. He would be stronger and faster, and every bit as lethal and obedient as the captain wanted him to be.

He’d make him proud. Someday.

Black Thunder knew that.

* * * 

Black Thunder delivered a final kick to the punching bag before he wiped the sweat from his forehead and went out of the gym.

He had succeeded in what he had sworn he would do as a child. He was faster, stronger and just as lethal and obedient as the captain had wanted him to be and he would continue to be obedient. He owned the captain his life…he wanted the captain to be proud of him. He wouldn’t let Ororo cloud his mind. He wouldn’t.

Yet as he walked down the corridor towards his room, it was her image and not the captain’s he saw in his mind’s eye.


	24. How To Heal Jean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-men try to heal Jean

## How To Heal Jean

“Tovarisch _[Russian for ”friend”]_ , what has happened?” Peter asked, shocked, as he and Kitty came into the cell a little before ten. Jean lay with her head in Rogue’s lap, her body only covered with two pieces of clothes, one of them was a shirt which had obviously belonged to Logan as he was now bare-chested. Logan sat on the floor beside the two women, his face twisted in frustration and an intense anger that spoke of his sympathy.

“That bastard raped her,” Logan growled, his eyes filled with hatred.

“What? Who?” Bobby asked as he came out from behind Kitty to see what was happening and drew a sharp and shocked breath when he saw Jean.

“Oh dear Lord. Jean,” Kitty mumbled sympathetically, tears in her voice as she went from Peter’s embrace to sit beside Rogue with Jean. What scared her most was not the red welt on Jean’s cheek but the emptiness in her stare. Even the small smile on her lips seemed creepy.

“That guy who was with the captain. Michael or Black Thunder or whatever,” Logan grunted in reply to Bobby’s question. Logan’s hands made fists in his lap as he looked at Jean’s empty stare. “When I see him again, he’ll pay for this. He’ll fucking pay. Big time.”

“Why isn’t she responding? Why is she just staring straight ahead like that?” Kitty asked in a tiny voice. It was really disturbing.

“Ah don’t know. She was like this when Black Thunder brought her in here,” Rogue said softly, feeling as frustrated as Kitty. She had tried to wake her up by speaking calmly to her and stroking her head, trying to call her back but Jean hadn’t seemed to notice her at all.

“Where’s Scott? Maybe if she saw him…” Bobby suggested hesitantly, not knowing what to do but needing to do something. Strange that before they had been captured, he had never thought his teachers could break down. They were supposed to be forever strong; they were the X-Men. All his childish illusions had been shattered while he had been here, and none so obviously as tonight when he saw how broken Jean was and how helpless even Logan, who had always seemed able to defeat anything, was to help her.

“We don’t know where he is. One …” Logan quickly bit the rest of the nickname off, having vowed never again to call Scott One-Eye. There was no need to so cruelly remind the young man of what he had permanently lost. “Slim never came back,” Logan finished, worry in his voice as he took Rogue’s free hand in his, her other stroking Jean’s hair, trying to give her some comfort. Wanting to give Jean a little dignity back, Peter took off his jacket and bent down and placed it over Jean’s body to try and warm her more, covering more of her form with it.

“She needs clothes,” Peter said softly, always the voice of logic.

“How do you suppose we give her that?” Bobby asked sarcastically, his frustration making his voice sharp as his gaze went from Jean’s bruised form to Peter’s face. “Did you bring the new Versace spring collection with you?” 

“Kitty, you work with Jean and Rogue in the Palace. Isn’t one of your jobs to repair clothes?” Peter softly asked his wife-to-be as he totally ignored Bobby, knowing that his sarcasm was his way of dealing with the situation and was all he could do to prevent tears from falling.

“Well, yes,” Kitty admitted, looking confused for a second but then she brightened, as she understood where he was heading. “Oh, of course. We can make clothes for her.” She was so happy at the prospect that she could do something constructive to help Jean that she couldn’t hold back a smile.

“What do you mean ‘we’? Ah can’t sew,” Rogue protested as Kitty brought forth the sewing set she had taken into their cell.

During the weeks they had worked here, they had been allowed to try and make their cell a little more comfortable. All items they wished to keep in their cell were inspected and only non-threatening items were accepted and they were only allowed a limited number. They were forbidden to save food or drugs, so Xavier and all the others who worked at the hospital were thoroughly checked every night to make sure they didn’t steal medicine from the hospital to trade off among the other slaves. There was a large black market among the slaves and the guards as everything from drugs to sex were traded for the smallest favours, which could be anything from paying to get out of a scheduled punishment to getting some extra food. Everything they had taken for granted before their capture was now considered a luxury, which they often couldn’t pay for.

Despite the small items they had taken to their cell, the walls were still bare and there still was only one bed. When they had first arrived the bed had been the cause of disagreements between Scott and Logan over who should get it. Logan wanted the bed for Rogue, and Remy if he needed it, while Scott wanted the bed to go to Remy or anyone else who might need it. The women generally just wanted the men to stop fighting and give the bed to whoever needed it most. In the end, Jean’s vote had settled the matter with her authority as a doctor and, despite Remy’s furious and blushing protests, she had insisted he got the bed. She had narrowly avoided explaining why she felt Remy was in more danger than the others of catching a disease and why it was so important he didn’t become ill. Without regular checkups, Jean couldn’t be sure how far Remy’s HIV infection had progressed but his immune system would in all cases be a lot weaker than the others, leaving him more vulnerable towards illnesses. She had honoured Remy’s silent plea not to tell the other students of his serious illness, and had without saying why told them of Remy’s more vulnerable situation. Everyone had gladly let him have the bed, ignoring Remy’s protests that he didn’t need it.

The team had each taken something with them to the cell, that being a bowl, a blanket or, in Kitty’s case, her sewing gear. She brought it out and took the blanket Peter gave her and began making it into a pair of pants, Indian style. It wasn’t the most important thing to do, making clothes, but it took her mind off Jean and her unseeing eyes. She couldn’t do anything else for her but this so that she did. It helped ease the feeling of being helpless, and helped her chase away the horrible images that her mind made up from seeing the evidence of Jean’s ordeal on her body.

“What happened here? Jean?” the professor asked worriedly as the older soldier who always carried him back and forth from sickbay to his cell gently placed him on the floor.

“You alright?” the older man asked the professor and sounded as if he felt guilty over the professor’s distress at seeing Jean like that.

“Oh, yes, Joe. Thank you,” Xavier said distractedly as his eyes were focussed on Jean. With a last look at the woman lying with her red-haired head in Rogue’s lap, the old man left as the team reunited for the night.

“Jubii!” Bobby said happily as he saw her and she walked slowly over to stand beside him, still mindful of her leg wound, a smile curving her lips as she saw him but it died when she noticed Jean.

“What happened?” she asked hoarsely, fighting her shock and horror as she saw Jean. Working in sickbay she had seen much worse injuries than this, but seeing this done to someone she knew was something she could never had prepared for.

“We don’t know,” Bobby admitted sadly, fighting to remain strong. Taking a risk, needing to feel something pleasant for once, feel that she was there and she was alive, his hand found hers and held it lightly. She pretended not to notice and let it stay there.

“First Mr. Summers and now this,” John said sadly as he reached their cell and saw Jean. Despite the trials they had been through, John had maintained his silent and polite ways, his way of keeping a piece of his life as a free man alive. He wished Cecilia were here. She’d know what to do.

“What? What did you say? What has happened to Scott?” Kitty asked from the corner where she sewed and sat quietly with Peter, trying desperately to pretend everything was all right.

“He was brought to sickbay, badly beaten. Cecilia and I bandaged him. Black Thunder will bring him back here in two days,” Xavier said and suddenly sounded very tired.

Everything seemed to be going wrong. If it weren’t for feeling as if he had made some progress with Gabrielle, he would never have come so far without breaking down. He had failed in the worst possible way. His students, his children were now suffering. But Gabrielle, she was like a ray of sunshine. Just today he had gotten her to point to the colours on some pictures when he asked her to. She didn’t talk, she never did, but she did respond. The joy, the pride he had felt in her achievement had made his day seem bearable despite Scott’s condition.

“Black Thunder! He was the bastard who did this to Jeannie!” Logan roared angrily, his right hand forming a fist.

“Are you sure?” Xavier frowned. He knew well that rapists and killers didn’t wear signs and without his natural telepathy he wasn’t as good a judge of character as he used to be but still, there had been a look in the mutant’s face that just didn’t fit… “He doesn't…” Xavier began, not sure what else he would have said to explain something, which was nothing but a hunch, but Jubilee interrupted him, her voice demanding and urgent.

“What does it matter who did what? Shouldn’t we try and find a way to bring her back?”

“I still say that bringing Scott to her would be the best thing,” Bobby suggested as Remy showed up, gasping in shock when he saw Jean. He had always had a certain degree of resentment towards doctors because of all the painful tests he had had to go through, but he had never felt like that with Jean. She had been patient and kind towards him, always there for him, making him believe there was still hope; that he could live a somewhat normal life despite his illness. Seeing her like this tore painfully at him, similar though not as strong as how he had felt his heart dying after Ororo’s death. He knelt beside Jean and stroked her hair in sympathy before he drew back; realising there was nothing he could do. Feeling sadder than ever as Jean’s state reminded him of what he thought Ororo had gone through in her last hours, Remy sat down on the floor in the back, next to Kitty and Peter. 

“If only Stormy was here. She’d know what to do,” Remy whispered softly, for once voicing his pain, his voice so low that only Kitty and Peter could hear it.

Kitty gave him a sympathetic smile and winced at the raw pain and longing she could hear in his voice. Remy’s love for Ororo was obvious to anyone, but his love for Rogue wasn’t a big secret to anyone but Rogue either. Remy didn’t love easily, nor did he love a lot of people but those he did let into his heart were forever held safe inside him and they would always know that. His feelings towards Ororo and Rogue were as clear as if he had written a sign, but it did demand one looked for it and not everyone did. Kitty felt a wave of sadness for him when she realised that he always seemed to end up with the shortest straw and that made her fight tears because it seemed so unfair. Life could be so unfair. Remy was a good guy, a handsome young man with a big heart, a great mind and a warm soul. He deserved some love, some happiness. Kitty looked at Rogue and sighed. Well, one can’t force love and Rogue did love Logan as much as he loved her. It really was one big emotional mess on top of everything else. Her eyes found Peter’s and she smiled up at him and drew deeper into his embrace. Well, at least she had some certainties in this crazy world. She had Peter and his love and for that she’d always be thankful.

“I agree with you, Bobby. Let’s see if she’ll feel better in two days when Scott returns,” Xavier agreed, his worried voice sounding old and worn out.

[1] Russian for ”friend”


	25. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Jean are reunited

## Reunited

Black Thunder supported Cyclops through the hallway. Scott’s only thoughts while in sickbay had been on Jean; all the pain he had felt then and still felt was nothing compared to the fear he had for Jean. No one had known what had happened to her, or they hadn’t wanted to tell him. He prayed she was all right but feared the worst. Thinking about Jean brought back the unpleasant memories of that night, which still haunted him in his every waking moments and his nightmares as well. That night where he had failed his love so horribly…where he had lost everything. No, he couldn’t break down now. There was time enough for guilt later. For now he had to focus on Jean. He had to help her now even if he hadn’t been able to do so then.

“Why did you save us?” the younger man asked curiously, trying to force the memories back that had threatened to envelop him, by talking with the man beside him. Black Thunder was so long in answering that Scott thought he wouldn’t say.

“What was done against you was a break of discipline. I simply did as ordered,” he eventually said as they turned a corner and neared the cell. Though following orders had been a part of his reasons for aiding the two mutant slaves, it had not been the main reason. He hated to see people raped more than anything else and if he could stop it without drawing too much attention to himself, he would always do so. He could stand by and see people tortured and killed without feeling much of anything anymore but not raped…never that. Deep inside he knew that these two reasons weren’t the only reasons any longer.

Ororo would surely have killed him if she could have gotten news of what had happened if he hadn’t interfered. That thought had come to him before he could stop himself. Why should he care what she would think of him? It shouldn’t matter…but he found it did - a lot. Which could also explain why he had agreed to let her have some things to keep herself occupied with when she had asked the other night. He had brought her paper, pencils and had even managed to get her a book, a journal over military command and discipline in the Ghenoshan army but it was all he could get his hands on. She had been happier about getting the items than he thought she should have been and it had worried him, making him wonder if he had made a mistake by giving her something.

“So, if not for the sake of discipline Jean and I could rot in hell?” Scott asked harshly and tried to pull away a little from the other man but had to admit that he needed the support to prevent himself from falling. Black Thunder looked directly at him, his black eyes unreadable.

“That’s right.”

Before Scott could form a reply that was suitable icy and showed enough contempt, they reached the cell. Since it was almost 2 in the night all the X-Men were inside dozing. A few were actually asleep because of the uncertainty of it all and Jean’s distress. Remy, exhausted from the hard work and having less energy than the others due to his illness, had finally fallen asleep on the bed; his body curled up so that he was hugging himself. Someone had given him one of the blankets for warmth but he still managed to look cold.

“Scott!”

“Mr. Summers!”

“You’re back!”

“Are you alright?”

Xavier, John, Bobby and Kitty inquired all at once, as they were the first to spot him. Black Thunder had pushed Scott, more than a little ungently, through the force shield before Logan woke up and was aware of who was at the shield. Bobby had been closest to the shield and he caught Scott as he was pushed through, guiding him towards Jean. When Logan saw the other man, his eyes filled with fury and he stood just at the other side of the shield, his eyes promising a slow death to his enemy and his hands formed fists, fighting the urge to pop his claws despite the pain it would bring him.

“I’ll kill you, you sick bastard,” Logan promised, his voice soft and deadly, the vow being reflected in his eyes. Black Thunder looked as if he wanted to say something but apparently changed his mind and simply walked away.

Scott’s eyes found Jean at once. She was lying on the floor on top of a mess of blankets, having been gathered in Kitty’s embrace. She was dressed in what looked like a remade blanket now done as pants and wore a blanket, which had been made into a poncho as a blouse. She had the beginnings of a scar on her cheek but what froze his heart was the emptiness of her stare. Had they…? Yes, they had. He hadn’t seen it but he knew it all the same. His heart sank. He hadn’t been able to save her. It was all his fault. He had done this to her…oh, God…what she must have gone through… Just the thought made him feel nauseous.

“Jean! Oh God. Is she alright?” Scott’s voice was filled with fear and pain as Bobby helped him to sit down beside her, careful not to touch his wounds or bandages.

“Physically, yes,” John answered softly from his place on the hard floor. They had washed her and tended to the minor cuts and bruises she had gotten but he still wished Cecilia had had the opportunity to look at her.

“Jean,” Scott whispered brokenly, fighting tears, as he took her hand in his, sitting beside her on the floor. Was this what Ororo had gone through? All alone? His heart ached for his lost friend but his main focus was Jean. He stroked her cheek but she didn’t respond, just stared straight ahead with a small smile on her lips.

“Why doesn’t she respond?” Scott asked, worry and panic entering his voice. What if she never woke up? She would be killed if she couldn’t work…His fear and panic rose as each thought gave birth to an even darker one.

”She is gone. Lives inside her own mind,” Remy explained softly, sitting up in bed as Scott’s entrance had awoken him. He had tried to give the bed to Jean but they had all agreed that should Jean wake up, having her lie alone on the bed would not be a good idea. Instead, the girls had taken turn trying to comfort her with words and soft touches. They had purposely agreed that none of the male X-men should touch her, afraid of how she would respond to that after her ordeal. Remy’s eyes were on Jean’s far away look, something between envy and sympathy in his gaze. If one should go it really wasn’t a bad way to do it. At least ones mind would be at peace no matter what happened to the body. He hoped that Ororo had died with peace of mind if not peace of body.

“I swear that if she doesn’t wake up I’ll not rest until I have hunted down and killed every last one of those damned guards and soldiers,” Scott vowed hotly, fighting his fear and panic with rage and Xavier knew that he meant it.

In that moment, in his pain and grief, Scott really was ready to take a life and go against all Xavier had taught him. Xavier wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that; his own emotions were in too much turmoil to say anything for sure but he did know that the thought didn’t upset him like he felt it should and that frightened him. He had always valued all life; had always believed taking a life was always wrong no matter the circumstances. He didn’t want this place to take that away from him but it was like fighting against the gravity pull of a black hole; everything good and pure seemed to be sucked away.

“Count me in, bub,” Logan said calmly but with deadly intentions as he sat with Rogue on his lap by the end wall, finding his balance between rage and love in her eyes.

“And me, mon ami. Stormy didn’t deserve this and neither did she,” Remy said softly and the others nodded their agreement; wanting to protect and avenge their friends but to kill…there the three X-Men were on their own. The others still held on to a dream, any dream and couldn’t…wouldn’t break it. Not yet.

Scott’s focus returned to Jean and his anger melted away. He had to fight tears but a few escaped his eyes anyway. She looked so fragile…so broken. Like a fine porcelain doll that had fallen to a stone floor.

“Oh Jean. I love you so much. Please come back to me. I need you,” Scott whispered as he gathered her gently in his arms and kissed the top of her head. For a moment her eyes flashed but then they returned to their unstaring state. The others slowly began to go back to sleep as it appeared Jean wouldn’t wake up and they would still have to be up for work again in a few hours. Kitty fell asleep safe within Peter’s arms, Logan wrapped his arms around Rogue and during the night Bobby’s hand had sneaked its way around Jubilee’s waist and she leaned back against him, sharing his warmth.

It was four in the morning and all slept but Scott. He still held on to Jean’s hand and still talked to her as he had since he had come back. If Cecilia knew what her patient did to himself, she would chain him to a bed instantly.

“…Jean, come back to me. There is no danger anymore,” his words kept coming, like a never ending waterfall, soft and broken and losing hope by the minute. “I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you.” He had to draw a deep breath as words got stuck in his throat and his vision blurred with tears, “I didn’t before…I…I’m so sorry that I failed you,” his tears fell like rain and he felt like he was dying. His stomach had curled into a tight ball of panic, fear and misery and he hurt all over, most of all in his heart. “I’m sorry…It is all my fault…I’m so sorry, so sorry,” he sobbed, “…please forgive me…” Scott’s voice finally died away as tears kept falling from his eyes and he bent his head in shame. It was all his fault. Had he just been stronger, had he just taken the other way, had he just…

“...It…wasn’t…your…fault…Scott,” a weak but definitely well known and loved voice rasped, hoarse and dry. Scott’s body shook as if he received an electric shock and he slowly lifted his head; afraid he was imaging things. His only good eye looked…into Jean’s green…living…eyes. A wide smile spread over his lips but his joy was lessened as he saw the pain in the green depths.

“Oh, beloved. I love you so much. Please forgive me,” Scott whispered and hugged her and she hugged him back so tightly his wounds began aching but in that moment he couldn’t feel the pain.

“It’s alright, Scott. It will all be alright,” she comforted, fighting to get her voice under control and Scott drew back with a small smile.

“Now see? I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around,” he protested softly, not sure what to do or say.

“I like helping you,” she whispered and wiped his tears away with a shaking hand.

“Did they…was it bad?” When he saw the haunted look in her eyes he wished he hadn’t asked but something in him needed to know. He wanted her to say no even if he knew it would have been a lie. He really wanted that lie, really wanted to believe it.

“It was but I pulled through,” she finally admitted with a strain in her voice, and now she tried to hold back tears as memories of eager hands touching her all over came back to her mind. She doubted she would ever be the same again. She felt different, dirty somehow…violated. She wished more than anything to be able to go back in time and undo it all…or to forget. She wanted to forget but in that terrible instant where she had been raped it was like she had regained her telepathic powers which gave her a perfect memory because that moment was burned into her mind forever. She never would, never could, forget.

“I’m sorry. So sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking, tears falling again.

She touched his cheek. “Do you know what saved me? What I thought of? Where I went in my mind?” She asked softly. “I saw you. I imagined your arms and your kisses and your love. You pulled me through. You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do this to me.”

As she said it she meant it with all her heart but somewhere in her mind she was scared and angry and the thought “Why me? Why didn’t they do this to him instead?” flashed through her mind but she was determined to bury it. Bitterness and accusations wouldn’t help anything. She had to try and get past this…she had to focus on something else. If she couldn’t forget she would have to concentrate on something else…and then pray that when she went to sleep she’d be too exhausted to dream.

“Jean, I…” he began but stopped. What could be said which hadn’t already been said? What could he do now when it was too late anyway? He had never felt so useless and guilty in his life. In that moment, when he saw her agony and knew he couldn’t take that pain away from her, couldn’t take it upon himself, he wished he would die instead of living with the shame of his failure: knowing he had been too weak to save the one person who he loved more than life itself. “I love you,” he settled with, fighting to keep his emotions out of his voice. He needed to be strong for her, for the others. He couldn’t fall apart now…He just couldn’t. He had to focus on something else than his pain…How could he even talk about his pain when she had been the one who had been raped? Oh, God, his world was breaking and falling apart. With a strength he didn’t know he had he shut down his thoughts, refusing to deal with them. He couldn’t think about this…He couldn’t. All that mattered was getting back home. If he could do that…if he could get them all back home, then maybe, maybe he could believe some kind of redemption was possible for him. Maybe…

Jean looked exhausted now and he wanted to hold her close, try to protect her now with his body but he wasn’t sure if she wanted that so he opened his arms in an invitation and without hesitation she went into his embrace. She didn’t fear his touch, not this light touch anyway. She knew it would take a very long time before she could allow any nearer touch than this but she also knew he would never hurt her. She knew that his love for her was real and she fought to use that knowledge to fight the part of her that wanted to hammer on his chest with her fists and yell at him, accuse him of not doing enough…fight the part of her that wanted to make him hurt because she hurt so damn much that she felt like she was breaking into tiny little pieces.

“And I love you,” she replied and hoped that their love would also bring them through this crisis. There would be bumps in the road ahead, they both knew it but if they worked together, if they respected each other’s feelings and gave each other time and space to heal, they could pull through, they would survive. Their love had lived through so much already. It would survive this as well. It had to. She couldn’t do this without him. He couldn’t do this without her. As if he sensed her thoughts, he gathered her in his arms and held her through the night. She fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. Safe in his arms. Safe in his love. She was so exhausted that despite her fears her sleep was undisturbed and she never noticed that Scott didn’t sleep at all, just held her close and from time to time softly kissed her forehead, a mixture of happiness and sadness on his face as his relief at having her back battled his guilt. A guilt that was eating into him like a tiger eating into its pray, barely held back by his resolve to keep it together.


	26. A Deeper Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ororo and Black Thunder get to know each other better and develop a deeper understanding for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter for this week's last big update. I hope someone enjoys it in these hard times.  
> If you liked it then I would love it if you left kudos and a comment. It would make my day so please do consider it; even just an emoji. Thank you. :)

## A Deeper Understanding

“Ororo?” Black Thunder asked softly as he entered his room, purposely making his presence known to avoid frightening her. He heard crying from the bathroom and hurried in there. He saw Ororo on the floor before the mirror, her body and hair wet from a shower and a towel wrapped loosely around her body as tears rolled down her cheeks, a horrified expression on her face.

“Ororo, what is it?” He asked with concern as he carefully pressed her closer to him. She didn’t pull back but leaned in closer.

She had lived with him for eight weeks now and after he had brought her some items to keep herself busy she had seemed to be doing much better. She had fought to find a way for her to escape and reach her friends with an intensity born out of frustration and desperation. She had come up with one plan after another of how to rescue her team-mates, one more unlikely than the next. She had without hesitation told him of her plans of trying to rescue the others, showing him sketches of what she was thinking. He had told her a bit about the compound, how it lay a little outside the capital and how the slaves worked in the mines nearby, in the compound itself or in the capital like in the presidential palace. He had told her how he couldn’t undo the slave collars and how every free human had a controller so they could always take control of a runaway slave. He had also told her that though Genosha was an island torn by civil war, the government had the upper hand and that resistance was found only rarely and the rebels had presently sought refuge in the mountains. It was unlikely they could get out of the compound, much less the city and if they truly wanted to be free they needed to get off the island which demanded a plane or a boat and all passengers had their DNA screened to be sure they didn’t carry the X-gene that branded them a mutant. Despite the fact that he found the possibility of escape to be slim he had let her plan, thinking it helped her in some way. He had, however, doubted her sanity for first of all telling him and second of all by the nature of her plans that had often been more fiction than fact, not having any basis in reality. She had asked him to help her try and break the others free and although he had protested that he really wanted to just be here, with her, as safe as they’d ever be, he couldn’t say no to her. He did want to be free but he didn’t want to lose what little freedom he had now. However, he had long missed a woman in his life. Someone to live for and he didn’t want to lose her so he had agreed to try and help her. After all, he doubted it would become relevant but he had to admit that he found no pleasure in seeing the others’ captivity and, if it could be done without harming any of them, he would like to see them free…all of them. But he just as seriously doubted that such a wish had any hold at all in reality. His own survival would have to come first, as it always had.

Most of her plans had started with them getting the collars off and her using her powers over the elements to push resistance down. His powers of healing and flight could do little in a fight. For all intents and purposes, he’d be useless in a battle, at least power wise. She’d have to be the one to save them. But it all came back to getting the collars off and as said, even he didn’t know how they came off so they were back to square one. He had a plan of his own though, one he deemed much more realistic. If he could get Ororo’s friends to work for the captain and be loyal to him their lives would become much easier and he would still have Ororo. Though the X-men still seemed to hold onto hope, he had hopes of starting to try and influence Cyclops soon. After the rape of the woman he loved he would be confused and easy to manipulate. Some discreet hints and conversations about how much safer everyone, including the red haired woman, would be if just he did a few errands for the captain. It would take months, maybe even a year or two before a man like Cyclops could be turned against all he stood for but by taking one step at the time, slowly, he could get there. Although it would take quite some time it was a good and safe plan. Ororo’s friends would have an easier life which would make Ororo happy, the captain would be pleased if he could use the X-men against the rebels and end the bloody war and most importantly, his own position would be strengthened all the while Ororo would remain with him and happily so.

“The...mirror…my body…my hair,” she whispered as tears fell down her cheeks and made his shirt damp as she leaned against his shoulder. Black Thunder stroked her short hair. She had been so strong through it all; he had hoped she was getting better but then, as he knew himself, you could go on as if it had never happened but it had and that knowledge always held you prisoner. Even at night when she woke up with a scream or when she flinched at his gentlest touch she refused to talk about it, instead she had dedicated herself to find a way to free the others. Why was she breaking down now? Was it the mirror? He never should have put it up again. He had taken it down so she couldn’t break it and use pieces of it as weapons against herself or him. He thought they had come so far that he could slowly begin to put his things back in their place so he had put it back up last night.

“What is it with your body?” he asked softly as she drew back from him. She looked at him with fury in her eyes, masking her panic.

“Are you blind? I’m hideous. See these marks…see my hair!” She demanded and showed the burn marks on her arms, which had left small circles, and her chopped hair which had left her once so long and beautiful locks as only a few inches of white on the top of her head.

“I see, but you’re not ugly,” he whispered softly, not sure what to say to make it better so he tried for the truth. “Your beauty shines in your eyes. It was those eyes…those brave eyes which held me up through that night when they took you,” he ended softly and stroked her cheek. For the first time, she didn’t draw back.

“Hold me,” she whispered, the plea in her voice sounding like she had asked him to save her. With gentle hands he held her close to his chest. She moved her lips to met his and he instinctually deepened the kiss, finding the flame of desire beginning to awake within him.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, sounding a bit out of breath as he drew back, fighting to get his body’s reactions under control. He wanted her, had from the first moment he had laid eyes on her but he wanted her to be sure of what she was doing. To seek comfort in his arms was one thing but to seek comfort in his lovemaking was another. He couldn’t live with himself if his desire ended up taking his control away from him and he hurt her…He wouldn’t be able to bear knowing he had used her and had become just like the men he hated so deeply.

“Yes, I need this,” she whispered feverishly, her eyes glassy and a bit unfocused as if she wasn’t all there. She ran a finger over his lips, teasing them. He caught her hand and kissed it softly, fighting to keep the desire from showing in his eyes. He had dealt with many rape victims and had had many of them try to seduce him or anyone else. Cecilia had told him it was because they thought their body was all they could give, all anyone would want. Their self worth and self image had been shattered and while they fought to get it back they tested their darkest theories and also tested the person they were with…wanting to see if they’d do as expected and use them like their attackers had. He knew how hard he had fought to regain his sense of self and self worth after his own attack, how he had fought to pretend it had never happened, pretended that the smallest touch didn’t made him flinch…

“I know you think you need this,” he began softly, his eyes reflecting a hint of sadness as he now fully understood that it wasn’t him she wanted or needed; anyone would do to test her limits. He really hoped this was a sign that she was beginning to feel better because he didn’t know how many times he could turn her away and he feared he one day might not see this for what it was and take her at face value. “But do you want this?” he added, his eyes holding hers until she broke the stare and turned away from him.

“You…you don’t want me?” she asked in a tiny tone, sounding like he had hit her. She had been right. She was ugly…she couldn’t do anything right. Now no one wanted her…not even for this. Black Thunder took her under the chin and forced her head up so their eyes met again but she still looked down in shame. Maybe she had done something wrong. Maybe that was why he didn’t …

“Ororo, look at me,” he asked and slowly she did. “You are the world’s most beautiful woman and I do want you but I can wait. We can wait. I want to do this when you want to. When you are ready to feel something for me,” he said softly and she forced herself to nod. She didn’t believe his words but maybe one day she would be able to. For now she suddenly felt very exhausted and leaned against his chest, feeling drained and weak.

“Have you ever…you know...had someone?” she asked softly, curiously, wanting to hear that love could be kind…that life could be kind even in this place which she was beginning to realise should have been called hell and not Genosha. He held her close and pulled the towel closer around her body so she wouldn’t freeze.

“I was married once,” he replied tonelessly, fighting to keep any memories from resurfacing with the words. She turned her head and looked up at him.

“Really? I thought you told me mutants couldn’t marry. That was why Peter and Kitty didn’t,” she said, remembering that two weeks ago Black Thunder had told him that Peter had made an inquiry about marriage and how he could marry Kitty. He had told them and Ororo that they could make their own ceremony but there were no official documents about marriage. He could write them up as a couple, as mates, and if they were ever sold the buyer could consider if he wanted both but that was all.

She liked it when he told her things of the world outside his room, which had become her whole world. She felt very cut off here despite her attempts to get past her frustration about her tiny world. She was sure he only told her the best things, leaving out the worst for she couldn’t do anything about it anyway. He rarely spoke of his work and what he did all day and somehow she knew not to ask, knowing she probably wouldn’t like his answer. Normally they tried to talk about neutral things that wouldn’t upset either of them, like talking about the Seven Wonders of the World and things like that. Sometimes they would have a good evening talking, other times she would have a setback and the evening and night would dissolve into nothingness. Or he would have had a bad day and refused to talk about it. In fact, refuse to talk at all and the evening and night were spent in uncomfortable silence. Come to think about it, he had looked grim when he had found her, before his expression had changed when his eyes had looked at her. She hoped that he hadn’t had too hard of a day.

“Normally they can’t. My wife…” Black Thunder drew a deep breath, trying not to recall this emotionally. “She was a gift from the captain and this was the reason why we could marry.” He recalled how surprised and secretly pleased he had been when the captain had told him that he had done a good job and that he would like to give him a gift to show his appreciation for his hard work. A gift that, to Black Thunder’s astonishment since the captain in general kept him very isolated, had turned out to be a young woman.

Ororo stared at him in shock and drew back.

“A gift?! A woman was a gift? And you accepted?” she asked furiously, trying to get away from him in anger but he held her down, trying to calm her.

“What would you have me do? Had I said no she’d have been killed and I punished. That wouldn’t have served a purpose.” He reached for her again and this time she settled down and let him gather her back into his arms.

“…Did you love her?” she asked quietly and wondered why that question was so hard for her to ask.

She did want him to say yes, wanted to know that there was something good and light still alive in this place…in him, but something in her also wanted him to say no…She wanted to be who he was thinking about…She wanted to matter. She drew a deep breath. It wasn’t like she felt anything for her unusual rescuer. Or did she? It was only gratitude and friendship…wasn’t it? By the Goddess this couldn’t be happening. She didn’t want to complete that thought. Life was way too complicated already; she didn’t need this.

“Mary was a fine wife and mother. I grew to love her,” he said, force of habit making him mention his Native wife by the white name she had been given and not her Native name of Equalia that he had only addressed her as in the heat of passion and in his thoughts. There was slight hesitation in his voice here as he got lost in memories: Equalia smiling at him, her cooking for him, them making love and her holding their baby son in her arms. His son who had only lived a few hours. The memory sent a spasm of pain through him, making him fight for control.

“How did she die?” Ororo asked softly and her hand found his, offering support.

Even though he didn’t talk about his grief she felt it inside him. It was strange how just a few weeks had changed so much. Outside, in the real world, the about eight weeks she had been here and had known Black Thunder was barely long enough for her to have accepted an offer to drink coffee with him. Now, in this place, he was the only human she saw. She had begun to look forward to seeing him come to his room…she had even begun to ask when he would come home, meaning his room. She was starving for some human contact and input and he was all she had so she threw all her emotions on him. He brought her meals, kept her safe, brought her books, paper and pencils to keep her busy…All her days seemed to meld into one and reality began to look fuzzy around the edges. Her world seemed to start and end with Black Thunder…Her life seemed to start and end with him. It was bringing out emotions and realisations that she didn’t care to analyse too deeply, afraid of what she might find out.

“She was killed. We had a mutual friend, Davis, a human guard. The first and **only** human I have ever trusted…and see what it brought me?” His voice was filled with bitterness and hate. “Mary valued him highly and had carelessly told him of the child she was expecting despite the fact that we both knew we were forbidden to reproduce since we were both Natives and mutants,” he explained, his voice barely suppressing his anger and bitterness.

“You disagreed? You wouldn’t have told your best friend?” Ororo asked softly, mild puzzlement in her voice as well as anger for such a cruel rule. She had told Jean everything; they had been best of friends…She stopped the thought quickly before she could begin to feel her sorrow and bitterness rise inside herself.

“In here you have no friends, only potential enemies. Mary should have known that but she was too trusting.” Sadness had entered his voice now, as well as a hint of anger at Mary for her trusting nature.

“What happened?” she asked gently, sympathy in her voice.

“What happened? It went as it must…he told the captain and hours after the birth of my son soldiers surrounded us and Mary and Pelan were killed.” He wasn’t sure what made him add this next piece of information, something he himself tried not to recall, “Our son was born beneath the stars therefore the name we gave him translates into Star Child.” His son had never lived long enough to get a white name and this fact made him have to fight back memories and his voice threatened to break down. He had wanted to die that day. He had even pleaded with the captain to let him join his family but the man had refused. He still had need for him, the captain had said. He couldn’t tell Ororo the whole truth. How Pelan had so brutally been killed, the small baby boy only a few hours old…They hadn’t even shot him, wanting to save the bullet for a more ‘worthy’ enemy…He had watched as his beloved son, who he had never gotten to know, was beaten to death by soldiers’ booted feet. He couldn’t tell Ororo how the captain had tortured his mind and body to regain his unquestionable obedience and loyalty…how he had been stripped of everything: his sense of self, his sanity…everything. He couldn’t tell her how in the end he had given up…how he had given the captain all he wanted and more…and how he had been ordered to prove that loyalty by killing Equalia, his own wife who had survived the death of her child only to meet her final fate at her husband’s hands. How when he had killed her, his mind had been a confused mess and all he had wanted was to please the captain.

Stripped of everything he had been, he had only slowly regained his strength at first and then had realised what he had done…How Equalia had cried for him, not for herself, how she had whispered she forgave him…How he had broken down when he had realised just how far he had fallen, just how far the captain had managed to push him…all the way to the edge and all the way over it.

“How did you move on?” she asked, tears in her eyes for him.

“I didn’t. They wiped my memory of the incident with the aid of a telepath they had working for them to prevent me from ‘doing something irrational’ like rebelling or trying to kill myself,” he said bitterly and remembered that day. That terrible day where he had woken up from the haze of torture, blood and pain…only to find that he had killed her, his own wife. The only woman, the only person, he had ever come to care about.

The captain was right; he could make Black Thunder do anything. To the captain it had been a display of power, to show who was master and who was slave. To show that he was still the centre of Black Thunder’s world…that he still had everything that was Black Thunder even his very soul. To Black Thunder it had been the end of his world as he had known it. “It happened five years ago and slowly, over the years, I have begun to remember more and more details of my life with Mary but the feelings are gone. I remember the actions as one would a book read long ago but…I feel only from those pictures. I do not recall loving Mary but through the pictures I see, I believe the feeling to have been there,” he admitted and wiped her tears away, his own eyes dry but filled with a clear reflection of pain. The day he had recalled Equalia’s murder in all its details, recalled her pleading with him to stop, to remember their love, to fight the darkness, the control, the pain…the confusion…until she had given up and had cried for him, for his fate, and had softly whispered that she forgave him…he had remembered it all. Only the fact that he didn’t remember his feelings, though he remembered his thoughts as he had slit her throat, had saved him from going totally mad.

“How can you talk about it so...casually? They took away your life…your memories!” Ororo protested as he tightened his arms around her. She had noticed that his voice hadn’t changed from the usual low whisper-like tone he always used. She wondered if he had adopted that tight control over his emotions and learned to use that kind of voice due to fear of punishment when younger.

“I’m not the first and I won’t be the last. If we cannot find a way out of here before your young pregnant friend gives birth…it’ll go the same way for her and her lover,” Black Thunder warned softly and a shiver ran through Ororo.

“Then we just have to free them before the child is born,” she said determinedly.

“If only we could but it’s a mere fantasy,” he whispered pessimistically.

“Have you no hope left? Have they really broken you so?” she asked softly and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, her eyes filled with heartbreaking sadness for him.

“This place leaves no room for being human for to them you are not human. You hide your emotions and try to survive. This place either breaks you or changes you,” he said and pulled her close, his hand intertwining with hers.

“And you changed. They stripped you of your humanity,” she whispered sadly as she felt his lips touch the top of her head.

“That’s right, Wind Rider,” he said softly, using a nickname for her that she had told him about and which he had come to like. Maybe, one day, he would tell her that Wind Rider in his native tongue was Gulicua and tell her about the spirit of the wind that held a special place in the Native religion. Maybe one day when he dared to open up to her…if ever he dared leave himself vulnerable again which he wasn’t sure he could do even if he wanted to. “Make no mistake; if it serves my purpose I’m ruthless and I’ll not hesitate to kill.” The words were softly spoken but Ororo knew the truth in them but also the warning.

“Would you harm me if it served your purpose?” she asked boldly, fighting down the flicker of fear that threatened to rise in her as she awaited his reply.

“…No, I would try to avoid that,” he admitted and Ororo smiled, relieved.

“Then you **do** have some humanity left after all,” she said softly, warmly, and brought her lips to his and their lips met in a feather light kiss, a kiss promising more. Promising something greater. Perhaps even promising love…someday…


	27. Silent Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean struggles to deal with what happened to her

## Silent Suffering

Six months had passed since their capture. Eighteen weeks since Jean had been raped and still no hope of escape could be seen. Hope was beginning to be something they all forced themselves to have. They’d all talk about escape and rescue but as more and more time went by, it became less and less likely. Scott tried not to think about that as he walked through the hallway and back toward their cell. Since Jean’s rape, he had been unable to take the right corridor and always took the left one.

Both Jean and his own body had healed up nicely. The cut in Jean’s face had left a faint scar and Scott had hoped that would be the only physical evidence of her ordeal. Unfortunately, his prayers hadn’t been answered. Some six weeks after her rape, it became clear that Jean was pregnant…with her rapist’s child as she had still been unable to let Scott do more than hold her or kiss her. Their relationship had become as fragile as a glasshouse after her rape and, with this piece of news, their world had shattered. Never before had he wished so deeply to have their mental connection back so he’d know for sure what she was thinking and how to help her. Most of all, he wished to know if she blamed him for this as he blamed himself. His guilt had been driving him to the edge and Jean’s control had been slipping. She was torn between hating the child and wanting it. She was a doctor, all life was sacred to her and the desire she sometimes got to kill this child, to tear it out of her like an unwanted disease, was driving her insane.

They fought to cling to their love but it was fading away from them. Scott didn’t know what to do, how to respond to her, and she didn’t know how to act around him. She had counselled rape victims before but somehow all the advice she had given then seemed useless now that she was the victim. She could give all the clinical names for all the reactions she was going through but she couldn’t control them. She felt like she was falling and there was no one there to catch her. She felt horribly alone and Scott’s support seemed to be either lacking or suffocating her no matter what he did to try and be there for her.

They would argue, fight and cry all the time. She would accuse him of horrible things and he would bite his lip hard till it bled, tears falling from his eyes but he would never yell back at her or shake her or deny it... He wouldn’t do anything at all. He would just stand there and let her accuse him, let her hit his chest again and again with her fists until she fell exhausted to the floor. He would never say her accusations were wrong even though she in her heart knew they were. Though she would accuse him she would never admit to her own darker thoughts. She wouldn’t admit to the wish that would resurface at times that he had been raped and not her. It was a desire, a wish, she could barely admit to herself and the very thought made her ashamed, confused and frustrated. That she was not able to admit to having such emotions and Scott feeling too guilty to ask her about it got them stuck in an agonizing moment they did not seem able to get out off.

Sometimes they would fight about Scott’s lack of response to her. She wanted him to react to what had happened to them and he would ask what she wanted from him for he felt no matter how he reacted it would be wrong. He asked if she wanted to know how he felt? Well, he could tell her. He wanted to kill the guards who had done this to her, he wanted to kill that child that grew inside her, a want which he hated himself for feeling towards a life who was innocent in its father’s crimes. He wanted to turn back time and he wanted to know how he could ever forgive himself for feeling so pained and tormented about what had happened to them when she had been the one who had been raped…Most of all he wanted to know how he could ever be forgiven for just for one split second thinking that he was glad they had beaten him instead of raping him…He wanted to know what he could do to ever forgive himself for being unable to save her…And he wanted to know if he’d ever feel alive again or if the world would always look this dull and grey. She didn’t know what to say to that, more than just saying she wanted him to show those emotions differently. How differently she had no idea and thus everything went in circles.

Scott drew a deep breath as he reached their cell. He had seen Jean run from the dining hall and had wanted to follow but she had insisted he stay, yelling at him that if he followed her then he obviously didn’t trust her to walk the hallway without cheating on him. Stunned and hurt, he had stood in the dinning hall for a few seconds before following her, wanting to make sure she was all right.

“Jean?” Scott asked as he reached the cell, keeping his voice soft and warm. These days he felt like he was hanging on to his sanity and life itself by the same thin thread and he wished he knew some magical way of making everything better. He found her on the floor of the cell and the sight she made had him gasping in shock and horror. Somehow she had managed to hide a small piece of a broken mirror or bottle from her work at the palace and now she had pulled her blouse up, exposing her belly. Her eyes were downcast as she intensely was slashing at her growing abdomen, her eyes holding a desperate and far away look as tears ran down her cheeks. There were already several cuts over her belly, fine small lines seeping blood. Not deadly or dangerous but still a very disturbing sight.

“God damn it! Jean!” Horrified Scott knelt beside her and fought to get the glass from her.

“Let go! I want to do this! I have to do this!” Jean yelled, her voice almost panicked as she fought to keep the glass but Scott was stronger and got the glass away from her and it rolled away from them to land on the other side of the cell. She saw where it landed and tried to move to retrieve it but Scott closed his arms around her and held her tightly against him.

“Relax. Relax. It’ll be okay.” He didn’t know what he was saying but he needed to do something.

She fought him like a wild animal for a few minutes, scratching at him, trying to bite him while she yelled at him, “Let go! Let me go! Damn you! Let me go!”

After what felt like forever with her fighting him, her yells deafening him and shocking him to his core, she suddenly went silent. Her body became limp and her constant demands ended in a sob of tears. He released his death grip on her and simply held her, pulling her close up against his chest.

“Shh. It’s okay, love. It’s okay. We’ll get past this. It’s okay,” he said over and over again in a calming voice, stroking her hair but he feared his words were hollow as he was barely holding back tears himself. He fought to stay strong and comforting for her and sometimes it was the right thing to do but other times his strength would have her accusing him of not feeling anything about her ordeal. He often felt like he was in a no-win situation, never knowing what would help her. If only they still had their mental connection then maybe he would be able to get it right, he thought sadly.

“I…I’m not sure I can do this,” Jean admitted in between sobs and Scott nodded though she couldn’t see it. He wasn’t sure he could do this either. Their world was being torn apart and he felt like they were dying. He felt so helpless that suddenly Black Thunder’s remarks about the benefits doing some work for the captain didn’t sound so ludicrous after all. If it meant keeping Jean safe…was it not worth it? Yet, could he really sell his soul to the devil like that? He was not a cruel man, never had been. Could he really make himself become one to save the woman he loved? Furthermore…would Jean even appreciate such a sacrifice or would she despise him for it? Again, no matter what path he chose, doing something or doing nothing, it all seemed to bring him failure.

Desperately he prayed to any deity whose name he could recall to please help them…they were dying. Please don’t let him lose Jean this way…If it meant his death in payment…hell, he knew now that he would be willing to pay any price, including bearing her rape for her if it meant she could go free.

“We’ll get through this…I love you so much,” Scott mumbled and kissed the top of her head. The tears falling from his eyes as well as her sobs slowly began to die out from sheer exhaustion. Please he thought fanatically, please don’t let our love kill us like this. Don’t let us die like this.


	28. Visiting Sickbay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xavier finds love

## Visiting Sickbay

Black Thunder walked from his office to sickbay. It had now been six months since Ororo had come to live with him. She had gotten better, as time did indeed heal some scars. Her screams at night weren’t as frequent. The bruises and cuts on her body had healed and had left small scars and her white hair had begun to grow out again. Her hair now went to her neck and was like a halo around her head, framing her face and making her seem breathtakingly beautiful, like a soft, chocolate-coloured angel. Over the months they had become closer and at night Ororo would fall asleep with her head on his chest. They exchanged kisses and voiced concern for each other but never more than that. Ororo wasn’t ready for more yet and Black Thunder didn’t know if he was or ever would be able to open his heart to love someone again, if in fact what he was feeling for Ororo was indeed love. He wasn’t sure. He didn’t really have anything with which to compare.

He looked down at the chair he had put wheels on and sighed. He was under her spell, no doubt about that. Ororo had found it so sad that the professor couldn’t move around for himself but was bound to a chair until someone helped him that she had convinced Black Thunder to make him a wheelchair. Speaking of helping…Ororo was now working in high gear to try and find a way out for them and the others. When Black Thunder had last seen Kitty her growing stomach had spoken of the urgency of their plan. Ororo had already decided that if all others failed, they should just walk out together from his room and, when they reached the first guard, Black Thunder would kill him and give Ororo his gun. Then they should try and fight their way to the others' cell. Black Thunder knew they’d never make it, their collars would be activated and stop them long before they went anywhere but she seemed to need to know there was a plan, even one as crazy as this one. As suicidal as it was it was also a plan he would never agree to but she didn’t need to know that.

“Black Thunder…what do you have there?” Cecilia asked as she saw him enter the hospital wing. Before he had a chance to answer she continued with a smile. “A wheelchair, for the professor. Great! That’s so sweet of you,” she said with a teasing gleam in her eyes and kissed him on the cheek. Black Thunder shot her an irritated look, trying to pretend her gesture annoyed him but the warmth in his eyes gave him away.

“Doctor? I think you better take a look at this one…” John interrupted and guided Cecilia away from Black Thunder, gesturing towards a patient while he spoke. Black Thunder didn’t miss the look of jealousy in the young man’s eyes as he had seen Cecilia kiss him and he cast the man a somewhat mocking and amused look for that. When they were gone, he went to find Xavier. As Black Thunder had expected, he sat by Gabrielle’s bedside. Xavier held up two different objects, a ball and a spoon, one in each hand.

“That’s good, Gabrielle. Now, take the ball,” Xavier said gently and the woman slowly reached out for the ball and handed it to him. Xavier smiled and took it. The woman’s eyes still seemed far away but not as much as before.

“Professor?” Black Thunder asked and a quick flicker of fear clouded Gabrielle’s eyes before the empty look returned. Xavier’s eyes narrowed as he noticed her drawback.

“What is it?” His voice was sharper than it normally was as he turned to look at Black Thunder. Scott had told them that he hadn’t been the one who had raped Jean yet his relationship with Xavier and all the X-Men was strained at best. But that wasn’t really a surprise. He was, after all, one of the “bad guys” as Jubilee put it and the scars on his face and body gave him a grim look. Not ugly but still…marked. A man one would look twice at because he was different and not because he was handsome.

“Come.” Without further ado Black Thunder lifted Xavier up and placed him in the chair he had put wheels on. Xavier couldn’t hide his smile. He could move around again. He felt more like a man now and not a helpless child. He knew that in the beginning he had helped Gabrielle because she was more helpless than he was and helping her made him feel that he could still do something, still make a difference. Through the months of captivity her recovery had helped him keep a focus and had helped him fight down his feelings of anger, rage and helplessness. Her recovery demanded love and patience and seeing how such feelings could still make a difference made him cling to his dream despite all the pain and ugliness he had seen while working in the slaves' hospital wing. When he had seen KZ-victims while working in Europe some years after the Second World War he had thought he had seen all the cruelty a man could do to another. One of his patients to be treated for psychological damage had been Eric whose naked body had been a mess of bruises, lasting souvenirs from his years in a German KZ-camp. Eric had been marked for life inside and out. His skin was forever branded with a number and his back and chest had bore evidence to the torture he had been subjected to. But one thing was seeing the aftermath, something else was seeing the still open and bleeding wounds, hearing the victims cry for a mercy which would never come. Xavier had always understood Eric’s fear and resolve never again to become a prisoner, he had always understood where that rage came from, that firm decision never again to be that helpless. This was why they could still be friends while fighting in so different ways for the same thing: equal rights for mutants. However, now Xavier knew what he had asked of his friend when he had asked him to give humankind a chance. Now he knew how Eric had felt. It was so hard to keep remembering that their tormentors were individuals…it was hard to forgive and still cling to a dream for peaceful coexistence. If not for Gabrielle, who had flourished under his loving hand, he doubted he could have kept his dream alive this long.

“Thank you,” Xavier said warmly to Black Thunder.

“Welcome,” he mumbled before leaving the room, uncomfortable under the older man’s grateful gaze. He wasn’t used to kind words so he didn’t know how to reply to them.

Xavier looked after him as he left before resuming his therapy with Gabrielle with renewed energy. He asked her about the objects for half an hour before she stopped responding, a sign that she didn’t have the power to do it anymore.

“That’s alright. We can just talk,” Xavier said softly and held her hand, knowing that ‘just talk’ meant he talked and, if he was lucky, she would listen.

He always told her beautiful things; she had seen way too much ugliness already. Before he had been crippled he had been a psychologist. Had worked as a psychologist. It was on one of those missions to a Balkan country torn apart by war that he had met Eric and had tried to help him get over the mental damage his years as a KZ prisoner had done to him. Eric had often accused him of caring too much for his patients, making it very hard for him when he lost one. But he had never cared for anyone like he did Gabrielle. He knew well enough that most of his feelings came from need, the fear of being alone and compassion. But there was something more here as well. At least that was what he wanted to believe…what he chose to believe when he looked in her eyes.

He stroked her hair with his free hand and smiled at her.

“You can wake up now, Gabrielle, there is no danger. I’ll look after you. I’ll protect you,” Xavier said softly, knowing he were promising things he could not keep but he wished he would be able to all the same. Her eyes moved a little and his smile widened in hope. She had made progress for some time now but he knew that with patients like Gabrielle it was important that she had something to wake up to.

“Over these three months I have come to care deeply for you. I wouldn’t say, “I love you” without meaning it so now, when I say, “I love you,” I mean it. Not like a doctor for a patient, a brother for a sister, a father for a child, a teacher for a student…but hidden deep inside like a man who loves a woman,” Xavier whispered, his voice warm and real.

Her eyes seemed to search for focus until they finally settled on him. Her lips curved in a small smile and her mouth tried to move to form words but no sound came out. He gave her some water but still no sound came out and he fought back his disappointment. He knew she might never talk but her damage was psychological and not physical so he had hope she might speak one day.

“It is alright, love. We have time,” Xavier whispered happily and Gabrielle nodded and reached out her arms for him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, ignoring how awkward it was to hold her from the side of her bed. “No harm will come to you. I swear,” Xavier mumbled and stroked her hair. As they drew back, a tear glimmered in Gabrielle’s eyes and she pointed at herself, then laid her arms over her chest in an x and finally pointed at Xavier. He smiled happily, having no problems understanding what she meant even without his telepathy to aid him. Her eyes shone with adoration and gratitude but in time the love born out of that could grow to become a true love. But even if it never did, this was far more than he had ever dared to hope for.

“I love you too,” he said gently and she reached over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.


	29. A Ray Of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecilia and John find comfort in each other

## A Ray Of Light

”John, give me a hand here,” Cecilia asked and John helped her put a bandage around an unconscious man’s head.

“Cecilia, we need to talk,” his voice was low but it held an edge of determination she had never heard before.

“No, we don’t,” she denied and hurried past him to go over to a table and lay the dirty bandages there. John caught hold of her hand and forced her to stop.

She looked with fury in her eyes at him. “Let me go. Now,” she demanded and he did so at once.

“Look, Cecilia. You can’t just pretend it never happened. We need to talk this through,” John insisted and followed her as she went to throw out the dirty bandages.

He wasn’t really supposed to stay in sickbay, nor should Jubilee but after a very heated discussion between Cecilia and Black Thunder where she had been lying through her teeth, swearing that he and Jubilee just couldn’t work any place else and if they did they’d only get hurt or something around those lines, Thunder had given in. She had been lying and all knew it. However, in the end Black Thunder had left with a “Fine but then I want no problems, you hear?” and stormed out of the room.

“Happened? Nothing happened,” she denied and began making order in her medical closet. He laid his hands over the drugs so she couldn’t go through them.

“Will you stop that and look at me?” John asked, annoyed and hurt over her statement. She slowly turned and looked at him.

“What?”

“Cecilia, I…” he began but then saw that all the slaves who were awake were following their discussion with great interest from their beds. Their argument was probably the best entertainment they had had in a long time. Refusing to be on display, John led Cecilia by the arm over to a corner with empty beds and lowered his voice. “What? How can you say that after what happened last night? And don’t say it was nothing,” he said and now the hurt in his voice was clear.

“Look, it was a mistake,” Cecilia tried to go past him but he blocked her way.

“You feel nothing for me? Last night meant nothing?” he painfully asked and Cecilia forced herself to nod. If only he knew…knew how much that one night, which had actually only been a hour - from nine to ten - as he was to be back in the cell…if only he knew how much it had meant to her. But also how wrong it had been.

“It meant nothing,” she stated and tried to go past him, afraid he’d read the truth in her eyes. He caught her in his arms and searched her face.

“I don’t believe you,” he said strongly and brought his lips to hers. First she tried to draw back but soon she put her arms around him and deepened the kiss. She was disappointed when he drew back. “That wasn’t nothing,” he claimed and hope and happiness were in his eyes and voice.

“Ok, so I want you, so what? I want a lot of things,” she hissed and again tried to go past him.

“Whatever happened to hurt you so, it wasn’t me. I would rather die than hurt you. I love you; you know that. I told you last night,” he said gently and stroked her cheek. He had loved her since he had first seen her. Her light, her dedication to her work…Like a pure angel on hell’s battlefield. A tear fell down her cheek and he wiped it away.

“I know but it is wrong in so many ways…you’re eightteen…My dear God, what we did was almost illegal in most western countries,” horror was in her face and voice, horror, self-hate and guilt. What had she done? She was older, she should have stopped it. This should never have happened.

“It’s perfectly legal to have sex at 15 already in most European countries,” he interrupted softly, fighting to not show too much distress over her response to their night together. It had been an incredible experience; his first time and it had felt like heaven. He had been so happy and had really looked forward to seeing her today but all day she had been cold and distant and now he knew why; she regretted last night. It had been the best night of his life and she regretted it.

She smiled bittersweetly at him, at his words. “It doesn’t change that I was raised better than that. God, I was robbing the cradle. You’re 18, I’m 34.” Before he could object again, she continued, “On top of that we’re all captives here. What kind of life will we have?” she asked sadly. He took her under the chin, raising it so her eyes met his, fire and resolve in his gaze, giving him strength beyond his years.

“Let’s get a few things settled. I may be 18 but I wanted you. In fact I recall I was the one who seduced you so no more guilt trips, okay?” She couldn’t say yes but he spoke the truth so she just indicated with a nod he should go on. “Secondly, I love you for being the only person in here who has kept so much of the outside with her, so pure and light,” Cecilia’s cheeks flamed red in shame at his words because she alone knew what she had done to keep so much independence. She had sold her soul to the devil to keep a part of her freedom and to keep being a doctor…in her darkest hours more to feel freer than to help the slaves. John’s impression of her was that of a fine angel but what would he say if he found out that his angel had sinned to gain the freedoms she had so that she could in fact appear to be more humane than the others? She had the freedom to show concern and to feel it; the others did not yet she had also paid for it with everything from her body to her conscience. Her eyes fell to the floor but he wouldn’t let her lower her gaze for long, catching her eyes with his own again. “I love you for all that but this is not the real world. We both wanted and needed last night…We both want and need someone to care for.” He could read the truth in her eyes, the truth that she agreed to that. “Do you love me?” he asked softly, simply. She tried again to lower her eyes to hide the truth from him but he wouldn’t let her. “Please, tell me,” he added in a whisper.

“Yes…Yes, I do,” she admitted and looked into his eyes. She did love him but she did not see it as such a fantastic thing as he did. Love was a burden, and a dangerous one at that.

In here love wasn’t strength but a weakness. If you love someone you’ll just hurt that much more when they died. She knew that for a fact. The rules of society might not work in here but that didn’t mean there weren’t any rules. A rule of caution, for one, was a good thing; even if, and that was a big if, he wouldn’t die on her, he could in turn be used as a bargaining tool against her. The most ironical thing was that he most likely didn’t see any of these dangers, he just saw a chance to steal some happiness and some love. A chance to have something worth living for, not seeing it could become something he could end up dying for.

“Then everything else doesn’t matter. Let’s take whatever happiness we can get and leave tomorrow for tomorrow to worry about,” he said strongly and bent down so his lips caught hers. She leaned into his touch, enjoying it in full, her arms going around his neck. He was right; she wanted and needed this. Caution be damned; if she lived like the dead she could just as well be dead. She would just have to be extra careful, for both of them. For now this moment was enough. She had her secrets and he could keep his. There was no past, no future, no guilt and no shame. There was only this moment and nothing else.

As he drew back her eyes were shining and her happiness was reflected in his eyes. One chocolate-brown hand found and held his white one, bringing to them a symbol of hope.


	30. Strange Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for the X-men continues

## Strange Bedfellows

Seven months had gone by since their friends had been kidnapped. Seven months of intense searching, dead ends, worrying and trying to keep everything together. With Alex in the lead, the entire school had used all available contacts to try and get to their friends. They had called friends at the TV stations and asked if their snitches knew anything. They had had Warren call in any favour ever owed him in any branch of the government. They had tried to trace the uniformed me who had taken them but had wound up coming up empty expect for the fact that the style was similar to the one worn by soldiers of Nazi-Germany during WW2. It all came down to the fact that officially the American government hadn’t been involved and thus there were no orders, no paper trail of such an order having ever been given and, as far as they could tell, no American soldiers had been a part of the operation. Their searching among the known anti-mutant groups didn’t pay off either but they had known that one to be a long shot; the operation had been far too military in style and efficiency for it. Because of Xavier’s friendship with Magneto, Alex had tried to track him down to figure out if he knew anything or had been involved but he seriously doubted it. Magneto hated humans and not mutants and even if he had let the others be taken, he would have returned Xavier intact. Eric’s love for his friend was legendary.

On top of their fanatic race against time, knowing the more time that went past the less chance they had of seeing their friends alive, they also had to keep the school going. Many of the students were too young to help them search for their missing friends, not to mention the school had to pay taxes and show test results and appear to be a normal boarding school so no one thought of linking the school to the X-Men.

As a last desperate attempt to find his missing brother and the others, Alex had asked Eric and his Brotherhood for help. That particular piece of news wasn’t received very well by the other students and people who he had gathered in the X-Men’s war room, now all seated around the large table. The war room was filled with maps from all over the world, news clips, books and phones and computers stood up against one wall. On another wall were hung up images a news station had shown of the kidnapping, a timeline that indicated the route they thought their friends might have taken as well as maps over various countries with red dots marking places where they had searched for leads. The room had become the X-men’s headquarters for gathering information about their missing friends.

“You can’t be serious!” Betsy said sharply and gave Alex a look saying she doubted his sanity from her seat beside Warren as she had heard who would be joining them. Alex’s leadership had been shaky at best and had been challenged many times because of his young age and him being one of the newer mutants to have come to Xavier’s school but it had held due to his intense passion for finding his brother and the others as well as him in general being a good leader.

“You’ve **got** to be joking!” Warren backed his wife up and the other students nodded as they looked at Alex who stood at the end of the table, trying to brief them in on his plan, which they so far weren’t buying.

“Look, I think we should give this a chance,” Lorna said softly in his defence from her place beside Alex and Alex gave her a warm look.

“Given your relationship with our Fearless Leader here, I doubt that was an objective opinion,” Hank said calmly and was rewarded with a dirty look from Lorna’s green eyes.

“I know this is difficult for you...” Alex began but was cut off.

“Forget it!” Emma spat and was about to stand.

“Look folks this wasn’t a suggestion,” Alex said sharply and his voice held a dangerous edge.

“I agree with Alex on this. Eric can help us. He’ll never want any harm to come to Charles so I think we can safely say he didn’t kidnap our missing friends,” Sean said, his Irish accent thick as he held his wife, Moina’s, hand. They were both very young, only 18, but had still married two weeks ago despite Alex’s loud protests. They would never had even suggested a marriage at such an early age if not for the lack of any teachers home, another problem Alex had tried to solve as best he could. No one knew this school was the X-Men’s headquarters and they wanted to keep it that way so of course they still had to send exam results to the government, try and keep order in the finances and divide the teaching positions. They had decided that the person who knew the most in one subject taught the students in that subject. Hank taught physics, Kurt taught German, Sean took over English literature, which often turned into Irish literature or tales of the English oppression of Ireland and the fight for a free Northern Ireland, Warren did the finances, Betsy taught self defence, which turned into ‘How to kill a person in 100 different ways.’ There were a few other courses but Alex had agreed that they had to dump the rest.

“Well, I’m not going to beg for help from an old enemy,” Emma said and was about to leave as Alex’s sharp voice stopped her, his short temper speaking of the stress he was under and the worry that had become a part of them all.

“I asked but it was only to fill you in. This is what we do.” Words of protest ran through the gathered mutants but Alex continued over them. “I know it is hard to accept but Eric cares deeply for Xavier and we have to face reality. We have searched for them alone for seven months now. All our leads so far have been dead ends. We need to do something and do it **now**!” To amplify his words, he slammed his fist down on the table.

“Where is Charles? Have you found anything?” Eric asked as he came through the door and interrupted their meeting. All mutants jumped up from their chairs and took up fighting positions. Lorna moved closer to Alex and touched his arm, making a protective magnetic shield around them both.

“Lorna…thank you, love, but I invited him here,” Alex said softly and went out from her protective bubble.

“What???”

“You invited him?”

“Are you nuts?”

Alex ignored all their protests and went to greet Magneto. Eric looked worried and he seemed to have aged several years in the seven months that had passed. If Alex had had any doubts about the depth of the friendship between Xavier and Eric he had none now. Alex gave Eric his hand in greeting, which Eric after a few seconds thought took in a firm grip.

“I see your brother in your eyes,” the older man said softly and Alex beamed with pride but then the moment was broken and his attention returned to their problem at hand.

“Now this is what we know. Xavier, Jean and four students were attacked outside Westford Mall. Jean sent out an emergency telepathic plea for help before she passed out. Scott, Logan and three students went to their aid. None wore uniforms. Soldiers had them pinned down and they were kidnapped. It was a highly professional operation and looked military. The attack was done here,” Alex pointed to a map of the city hanging on the back wall and Magneto looked more closely as did the others even though they were still on the look out for signs of trouble from Magneto.

“I see…” Magneto mumbled and looked more closely at the map even though he had known this already, having tried to search for Xavier himself when he had heard he had been kidnapped but he had only had the media to go by. “Do you have any leads?”

“None that have worked out. We know of the battle in town with soldiers wearing as of yet unidentified uniforms…” Alex began.

“Hell, everyone knows about that. It was all over the news,” Betsy interrupted and Alex cast her an annoyed glance.

“…But from there on it is speculation. Some claim to have seen them as far away as somewhere in France while others said that they were taken to a boat.” Alex’s frustration and their many misleads were obvious in his voice. Warren’s reward money for information about their missing friends was a good thing but it also encouraged a lot of bogus leads they had to waste time checking out.

“Boat? From which port?” Magneto asked and his eyes looked alive for the first time that night, maybe for the first time in months. He hadn’t had any clues about a boat. He had intensified his search inside the USA, thinking a branch of the military was behind it. After all, the X-Men only operated in the USA so why should a foreign nation take them? That didn’t seem right but if it was so it could explain his lack of progress.

“A southern one. Here,” Lorna said and pointed on the map.

“Of course! With boat…I never thought that when I looked for Charles after I heard of his disappearance,” Magneto said as if a great puzzle had just been solved.

“Care to share from the fountain of wisdom?” Emma asked sarcastically, still not at ease around the older mutant.

“There is a small, closed nation called Genosha on an island there. Like in America the island had a Native population who welcomed white settlers in friendship a few hundred years ago.” Magneto explained. “Long story short then the two groups had to fight to remain on somewhat friendly terms as the settlers wanted more land than the Natives wished to give up. Still a fragile truce held for many years. Many of the Natives turned out to carry the X-gene as did a few of the descendants of the settlers as the two groups over the years intermarried. However, there had always been distrust between them as well as some fights which culiminated with a government change some thirty years ago where the Government of Genosha closed their borders and enslaved their Native and mutant population, starting a bloody civil war which the world saw no reason to interfere in,” Magneto almost spat the last word out in contempt.

Alex frowned in sympathy with the enslaved people of Genosha and annoyance at not having had this information before. “I didn’t know that.”

“It was before your time. People like Xavier and myself remember the government change vividly even if not all recall all the details,” Magneto replied.

“And you think they’ll be on this island?” Hank asked as he brought up maps of the waters near the American cost and spotted the island.

”It seems a logical assumption,” Eric said and Hank nodded.

”Indeed it does.”

“It would explain the military uniforms we couldn’t get anyone to recognise as well as why all our leads seemed to come to a dead end,” Sean agreed.

“Seems that way but I’ll still have contacts search for any money trail between the island and the government,” Warren said and Alex nodded in agreement though he was sure they had the right place. It was the only logical place left…It had to be it. Warren exchanged a glance with Betsy, who immediately started using her cell phone to get any information about Genosha she could get, having used her telepathic powers to sense what he wished her to do.

“What kind of defences do they have?” Alex asked, worried. An island would be hard to invade.

“Can’t we just talk with them?” Kurt asked softly. He didn’t like the prospect of a big battle. Someone was bound to get hurt, or maybe even killed.

“They have had no diplomatic connections with any government for years. I doubt they’ll start now over some mutant issues,” Magneto said darkly.

“So, we attack!” Alex declared, the decision quickly made after seven months of fanatic searching. He looked at the blueprints Hank had laid out on the table showing the island’s defence systems. There were fences, mines, guns and cannons. The Invasion of Normandy in ‘44 had to have been easier than this.

“Where do we go in? And do we go in all at once or in smaller groups?” Betsy asked as she leaned over to look at the plans, still listening to someone on the other end of the phone line. Alex looked to Magneto, indicating he wanted his advice.

“All at once. Here,” Eric said and pointed to a point were there were more guns but less mines.

“Why there?” Emma asked suspiciously.

“More mutants have powers which allows them to blast things from a distance than mutants who can fly,” Eric answered.

“We can’t know for certain where they’ll hold our friends but if we move towards the capital city and the main compound placed there, which is rumoured to be a slave facility, we should be able to if not find them there then find some information which can assist us in our search,” Betsy suggested as she clicked the phone off. She looked at the map over the island which she had just phoned about to pull all information Warren’s money could buy about it and been told about the presumed slave compound. Apparently an American spy plane had taken some pictures of it and had made that assessment. She had pulled a few strings to get all the spy plane photos copied to her to see if they could help them with the assault plan. As she had made her suggestion about the compound, she looked to Magneto and Alex who both nodded agreement to this.

“If we let the mutants who can fly go in first and take out the cannons overlooking the sea, the others can follow and we fight our way to the city; it’s not that far from the sea. We then move towards here,” Alex said and pointed at the largest compound in the middle of the capital city which was close to their point of entry: Betsy’s supposed slave compound.

“I agree. Who of your people can fly or in some other way jump large distances?” Magneto asked, his eyes locked on the mines on the map.

“Betsy can, she has the power of walking through shadows. Lorna can, she has the power of magnetism and therefore can fly like you can,” Alex nodded to Eric as he spoke. “Sean can fly due to his sonic screams, Warren can obviously fly,” Alex smiled a little as he nodded to Warren who unfolded his large white wings a bit before folding them back on his back again. “Emma can by the power of telekinesis and Kurt can teleport,” Alex answered for them and nodded to each of the mentioned mutants in turn.

“Very well. Train them in hand-to-hand combat and shooting as well as enhancement of their powers. We have no time to waste,” Magneto said and several people entered.

“What? You said you’d be alone,” Alex protested furiously.

“I lied. Besides we need all the help we can get,” Eric said and nodded to his people in turn, “This is Mystique, Sabretooth, Mastermind, Toad, Sinister and Apocalypse; my best warriors among the Brotherhood.”

Alex had seen Toad, Mystique and Sabretooth before but the others were new. Mastermind looked like an older man whose powers were obviously in his mind and not his body, Sinister looked youthful but his skin was very pale and his face was dominated by a pair of very red glowing eyes while the last one, Apocalypse, was a strongly built man whose age was impossible to place but Alex guessed around thirty.

Magneto then nodded to two younger mutants standing off to one side, the young man standing protectively in front of a beautiful woman dressed in red. “My children: Pietro and Wanda, also called Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch.” There was pride in his voice despite the fact that both children normally didn’t fight with the Brotherhood and their father but sometimes even against him.

“Well, I guess it is alright then if they’ll obey orders,” Alex gave in; they really did need all the help they could get. He really didn’t like the way Sinister was looking at him, though, like a scientist admiring a lab rat. Magneto noticed his discomfort and whispered to him:

“Watch out for Sinister and Apocalypse. They play in this game to win but for their own ends only.”

“Do you know what they want?” Alex asked just as softly. Okay, Sinister’s red eyes which seemed fixated on him were really beginning to annoy him.

“Well, Sinister is obsessed with your brother for some reason. He wants to study him…and his bloodline, ”Alex looked shocked and Eric added, ”But mostly your brother.” As if that would make him feel better which didn’t help much.

“Great,” Alex said sarcastically. “And the other one; Apocalypse?” Even the guy’s name bore warning of danger.

“That I don’t know but he is powerful. As long as we get what we want, let’s worry about them later,” he said briefly and brushed it off.

“Very well,” Alex agreed. They had wasted enough time already. “Who’ll train the first strike team?” Alex asked.

“Mystique and Sabretooth. They’ll be tough and teach yours to be the same but what they learn will probably save their lives,” Magneto said and with a nod of his head, Mystique began leading the small group to the gym with Sabretooth or Creed as his real name was.

“Betsy will lead the team. She’s fully trained in any kind of combat,” Alex said and wondered if Eric would protest. Power wise, it was hard to tell who would win if the two groups went at it. “She has the experience and the coldness to do whatever is necessary.”

“Even if it means leaving a team-mate behind?” Magneto questioned and Alex frowned.

“If needs be; yes but let’s strive to avoid that.”

“Of course,” Eric agreed and there was silence for a while.

“Shall we set a date? What of Friday the 4th, a month from now?” Alex asked and moved to the table, agonised at having to wait an entire month with the thought that his brother could be suffering horribly as a slave during that time but he knew to go in unprepared was madness.

“I agree.”

“Good. Now, let’s see what we have to do when the first team has landed. We also have to think of what to do if the first strike team should fail,” Alex began, thinking of different things that could go wrong.

Magneto seated himself with Alex at the table and battle plans were discussed. Drawings were laid out and more plans were discussed. To avoid disobedience, they agreed to split the group in two units where Magneto controlled his own team and Alex the other but the teams were to work as one. That of course also meant that Magneto and Alex had to agree and back each other up in a combat situation, which was perhaps the hardest. Although Alex trusted Eric it was only to a certain degree. He knew that Eric had three goals for this mission. One was to rescue Charles, the other was to save the mutant slaves and the last was to destroy Genosha. Alex hoped that he wouldn’t confuse the order in which he did those three things. He furthermore hoped that when the time came, they’d both be professional enough to know when they were beaten, when to listen and when to lead.


	31. All These Months….

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-men adabt to their new reality

## All These Months….

Jean was on her knees, cleaning the already shining marble floor in the palace, but her thoughts were far away. They had been prisoners for seven months now. Well, at least they had counted it to that. They had no watches and weren’t allowed to know the date so they had counted the days by having Remy make a small figure in the wall with Kitty’s hairpin for each day.

Jean’s green eyes found Kitty and Rogue. Rogue seemed to be fine, considering the circumstances. The fact that she and Logan could barely keep their hands off each other probably had something to do with her happiness. Jean had tried to be happy for them but was still unable to look at them when they got a little too caught up in each other…it brought back memories she wished she could kill forever. However, the other X-Men were as considerate as possible and they would often stay in the main areas until just before ten, giving Logan and Rogue some privacy.

Her thoughts rested on Scott as they often did. He had been so patient and kind through all this. She still hadn’t been able to let Scott do more than hold her and kiss her softly and briefly. If it went further than that she’d feel her body stiffen and she’d draw back. It wasn’t Scott’s fault; in their minds they both knew that, but she could tell from his facial expressions and the tone of his voice that his heart sometimes had doubts when her body’s reaction betrayed her heart. He had only been sweet and understanding, never pushing, though the helplessness he must be feeling was probably driving him up the wall and that was frustrating for her as well. Sometimes she wished she could forget it all, at other times she really wished she could talk with someone about it. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Scott about what had happened though he had offered to listen…she just couldn’t do that. At times when he came back to her from a hard day’s work and looked exhausted, she really wished she had control over her body; that she could comfort him with her touch but she couldn’t. She was afraid of something that came alive every night in her nightmares. She just wasn’t ready. Not yet…maybe she never would be.

Though, as with everything, the days did pass by and though she at times had thought she should die, had wished it many times, time truly was a great healer, although a very, very slow one. They had had their bad days, with her breaking down and crying over the smallest thing or suddenly yelling at Scott, saying things she quickly regretted. She knew that at first he wasn’t sure what to do, he probably wanted to take her in his arms but feared her reaction. However, after an emotional outburst like that, she felt like a balloon which all the air had suddenly gone out of; she had no energy left and he would take her in his arms despite his hesitation and rock her gently back and forth as a father might a child while he said he understood, that he would always be there for her, no matter what.

Thinking about all of that also brought back memories of her short pregnancy. She had always wanted a child with Scott but now her first experience of being pregnant had become tainted. She wasn’t sure she would ever wish to have her own child if ever she and Scott had sex again. Just when the whole ordeal had threatened to break them both, when Jean’s morals hadn’t been able to push down her repulsion over having an eternal reminder of her ordeal and she had been ready to put a knife into her own belly to cut it out of her, it had mercifully ended. She had miscarried and had lost the child, the fetus just barely recognisable as human. A part of her thought her own inability to accept the child might have killed it. Maybe subconsciously she had done all the things she as a doctor knew she shouldn’t do when pregnant, like overworking herself. She couldn’t deny that losing the child had been a relief to her but her relief had also made her feel guilty; the child couldn’t be blamed for the sins of its father. The whole situation was a mess of conflicting emotions and her and Scott’s relationship was still strained. Though she hadn’t really wanted the child, she had a hard time being with Kitty and seeing her growing stomach, knowing she carried a child of love, a child she wanted to keep. The kind of child Jean would have liked to have. Cecilia had told her that her miscarriage had happened because she had been stressed, undernourished and overworked, as Jean had suspected, and Cecilia had furthermore explained that miscarriages were very common around here. However, Jean still felt guilty because a part of her was happy that she had lost the child, a part of her had wanted to lose it and that thought went against everything she had ever believed in.

Thinking of Kitty…Jean worked close to her and, with Rogue's help, they made sure she didn’t exhaust herself. Knowing she had probably lost her own child due to too much hard work, she and Rogue were even more watchful of Kitty. Peter was very excited about the child and last night he had woken them all up to tell them that Kitty had felt the child move. However, both of the young soon-to-be parents were also fearful. There was a reason why there wasn’t a kindergarten in the compound. Still, they drew strength from each other and their love, making Jean’s thoughts go to their quick little wedding that Xavier had given them. How Remy had managed to get his hands on two gold-like bands, the kind used for machinery, she didn’t know, but the young couple had exchanged the crude jewellery and Kitty would often look lovingly at the golden ring on her finger, loving it as much or probably even more than if it had been a gold band with a diamond. She had heard that some equipment had broken down and two guards had been killed, the accident strangely enough falling together with Remy’s whereabouts and his stealing of the gold bands for his friends, but he had never been punished for it nor commented on the incident.

Thinking of Remy made her worry. He had taken Ororo’s death the hardest and, now that she was over the worst of her own depression, Jean feared for him. His stealing of the bands had been dangerous and she worried that maybe he thought he had nothing left to live for. She knew of his unreturned love for Rogue and with Ororo gone…She couldn’t even check how his HIV was proceeding. He seemed okay, he hadn’t been more ill than the others, but there was no telling when his illness could break to the surface. At home he had taken some pills for the illness and she had been part of a group that had been working on a cure for the terrible disease but here… She wanted to tell him he had a lot to live for, to hope for, but even back home she had had trouble saying that to him. She had always felt so helpless and useless around him, wishing she could cure him, heal him…Without Ororo, without Rogue’s love and caught in the hard life of a slave…what right did she have to ask him to keep fighting when she knew it was like asking him to fight for the others happiness because his own was already dead or unattainable? The unfairness that such a bright young man like Remy should be damned with such a short lifespan, already living on borrowed time, had always angered and saddened her and made her doubt the meaning of life and whether or not there was in fact a meaning in it at all.

Jean’s thoughts moved on to her other friends. Jubilee, John and Xavier still worked in the hospital section. Scott had told Black Thunder of Jean’s own medical degree when she had carried the child, to try and lighten her work, but Black Thunder had said that if Jean went to work at the hospital then Xavier would be useless…and therefore terminated so Jean had stayed where she was. She hadn’t regretted that choice even though she knew that had she worked at the hospital her child might have been saved. Xavier himself was happier than ever, though he still feared for them all. He often talked about a woman named Gabrielle who was at the hospital. He had been so happy when she had woken up and now he spent all his free time in the hospital together with her, making Jean feel that he was creating a little world of his own around himself and Gabrielle where they could pretend nothing could harm them. Gabrielle still didn’t talk but with signs and gestures the two communicated just fine. Logan had been mad at first to hear that Gabrielle was a human. Jean could understand that after everything they had been through, though she didn’t share his anger.

Scott had warned all to try and keep a low profile while they all still worked on an escape plan, however slim the chances of success or even actually trying it might be. Most had followed his advice but Logan had a hot temper and had gotten into a few scrapes. Once because some guards had looked lustfully at Rogue. He had gotten 10 lashes for that one. Then just the other day a guard had called him something, Jean didn’t even remember what anymore, that wasn’t too flattering and Logan had jumped the guard. Scott had interfered and tried to break them up in the hopes that the incident could somehow be calmed down, which resulted in them both getting 20 lashes each which had been raised to 30 each when both Logan and Scott had tried to cover for each other by both claiming they attacked the guard alone.

When Xavier explained that Gabrielle had been part of the Genoshan resistance group which fought for a country with equal rights for mutants and humans, Logan and the others who had resented her quickly forgot their painfully earned distaste in humans, for it hadn’t just been Logan who had had a problem with her being human and humans in general. After Jean’s rape, Scott had felt the same way and now, instead of trying to find a peaceful way out of this prison or a way which harmed as few guards as possible, he, Remy and Logan spoke highly for a frontal attack at a weak point, killing as many of the guards as possible. His change had left Jean saddened, feeling she had been the cause of the harder, angrier Scott even though she logically knew that the rape hadn’t been her fault.

Jubilee and Bobby had grown closer and, at night, he’d let an arm slip around her shoulders and she’d lean against him but they’d rather die than admit to that growing love of course. John was much harder to read but then he had always been hard to read for Jean…well, actually for them all. He was normally a very quiet young man and, since one could now see Scott’s eyes, or eye as it was now, John had become the most unreadable of them all. He had said one evening when they had all discussed escape plans that when they one day were to leave he’d want the Doctor, Cecilia, with him. Scott had argued that if they were to escape together it was out of the way to reach sickbay first but John had been firm in his decision and Scott had given in.

Jean sighed as she saw Black Thunder walk over the floor, not looking at her as he passed, and disappear around a corner, walking with fast steps to carry whatever order he had out. That was one man she didn’t understand. He seemed to want to protect them but still he did things against them and he wasn’t by far the most open or gentle of men. Her education in psychology told her that there was more behind his hash words and seemingly uncaring front than they saw but she didn’t know what and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. The man was a ruthless killer; many of the other slaves said so and she herself had seen his handiwork. She remembered once a guard had been accused of helping slaves escape. BT had shot him in the forehead and his body had been hung up in the dining hall as a warning for all. She had to give him credit though; she had heard him argue against letting the man’s body hang in the dining hall. He had just killed the man and had argued that telling the guards and slaves the consequences of betrayal was enough. The captain had disagreed and only after three days, when a sickening stench had made eating a pain in itself, had the body been removed.

She returned her glance to the floor and rubbed viciously. She missed Ororo, someone her own age to talk to. Scott was always there to listen to her but all the doubts she had after the rape she’d have liked to share with a woman. It wasn’t something she could tell her husband. She had tried to fight the resentment and anger she sometimes felt towards Scott but it was hard to fight all her fears and nightmares alone, hard to kill the demons in her head. She longed to get back home but that seemed an impossible dream. Despite their talk of escape plans it seemed more and more forced as the days went by. Jean took a short rest and for a while looked at her now hardened hands after months of hand labour, remembering once when her hands had been fine and polished…the hands of a doctor, delicate hands. This clear sign of her change had her fighting tears for a second or two before she continued her work, forcing those thoughts away. Longing for what once was only made it harder to live without it.

Her thoughts stayed with Scott as she worked and she hoped they would be able to work this out. Things had settled down a little after the death of her unborn child but they carried a lot of baggage around. His guilt and frustration threatened to kill them and so did her anger and her own sense of guilt. She knew they could never regain the sweetness of their relationship. They had both lost too much, most of all their innocence, but she knew, as she hoped he did, that they still loved each other. She just hoped that love would be enough to get them through, would be enough to turn their marriage into a new kind of relationship, a different kind but still as strong as the one they had used to have.

* * *

“Michael, walk with me,” the captain ordered as he passed him by in a corridor in the Presidential palace where Black Thunder had just delivered a sealed order. Michael fell into step beside the captain and waited for him to speak.

“I am pleased that you broke up the rebel ring that has been helping formerly highly-placed slaves out of the slave compound. However, the five men you caught cannot have been operating alone. The escapes were too well organised. Look into this and find me the missing link,” the captain ordered. Over the last two years the compound had suffered from frequent and well-organised escapes which had been carefully targeted on only one or two slaves who, before they had become slaves, had been doctors, business leaders, soldiers, scientists…civil rights leaders: all men and women of importance before time had run out for them. Genosha’s Intelligence Service, GIS for short, had named the mastermind behind these escapes ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel’ in honour of a book by the same name in which the main character rescued carefully selected nobles from the guillotine during the French revolution in elaborated escape attempts.

“I supervised the interrogation of those five rebels myself and they will not break easily. In fact I was on my way to you to let you know that one of them managed to kill himself and I believe we should expect the others to try the same,” Black Thunder explained, his expression blank. Situations like these reminded him why it was never a good idea to try and help others. It made you weak…it always did. Still, even as he believed the truth in these words he also knew that he had allowed Ororo to become a weakness, a fact he was still fighting with himself to accept.

“Well planned out as I thought,” the captain said with a note of admiration for this mysterious mastermind in his voice.

“I still believe we shall find the mastermind behind these escapes in the midst of Genosha’s high society. Only a human who has high clearance and a lot of resources can pull such elaborate escapes off,” Black Thunder reminded him.

The captain frowned. “I agree to the logic in this but I do not like to believe a traitor could have hidden so well in our midst.”

“The GIS is checking it out,” Thunder said, not sure what else to say.

“Hmm,” the captain mumbled, thinking. “Any news on the X-men?”

“Yes. I believe we can start on the training of the mutant called Cyclops within a few weeks,” Thunder said, by now having admitted that he remembered all the X-men by name because of the captain’s continuous interest in them as well as telling Ororo about them.

“And you thought it couldn’t be done, to pull this one in.”

“I had not expected his woman to be raped before his eyes,” Black Thunder said darkly, the memory still disturbing to him.

“Sometimes accidents do work to your advantage,” the captain commented.

“He is angry, confused and filled with guilt right now but we must proceed with caution. If we play our cards right he can come to work for you and be taken out of the slave pens,” Thunder said and silently added, _out of the slave pens and into a much safer and better life_. This should please Ororo and make sure he did not have so much trouble with the young mutant. If he played on Cyclops’ guilt and desire to protect his woman, Black Thunder could have him do anything he wished.

The captain nodded in satisfaction. “How about some of the others?”

“Remy should be an easy pick with some brain washing. As you requested, I let him get away with killing the two guards to get the bands for his friends’ wedding. He is ready to kill and he feels alone and isolated. All there needs to be done is to give him hope.” _But that was only one_ , Thunder thought. Now if just he could get them all to work for the captain they could all be safe and Ororo would be pleased, as would the captain.

“And the father of Katherine’s child? Piotr…Peter,” the captain asked, settling for the English version of his name instead of trying to pronounce the Russian form. His eyes searched Michael’s face for any signs of distress or distaste in regard to his question. The captain hadn’t enjoyed doing what he had had to do with Thunder’s wife but there had been no other way. Michael had known that he was not allowed to have children and this was a rule the captain would not disregard…not even for his favourite soldier. There was no way he was letting Michael hold someone other than himself close to him; there was no way he was letting Michael get attached to anyone else. Having a child was dangerous…any father would do anything for his child…would do anything to that child to keep it safe. He could not let someone else have such control over Michael.

“He cares deeply for his woman and his child. He could easily be blackmailed into working for you,” Thunder explained, forcing his voice and face to stay neutral. As Katherine’s pregnancy had proceeded he had flashbacks more and more often to his own child and his empathy towards the soon-to-be parents had steadily grown. He would rather kill all three members of the small family than have them go through what he did.

“Maybe it’s about time to end the female’s pregnancy. It is hindering her to work to her full capacity,” the captain mused, pleased that Michael seemed to be unresponsive towards the comparison between Katherine’s situation and what he himself had gone through.

“Dead, the child will be useless to you. Alive, it could keep its father in line,” Thunder suggested, repulsed at himself for even suggesting holding a child’s life over its father but knowing very well that the other alternative was death.

The captain gave him a sharp look. “There will be no mutant children born on my watch. The President made it quite clear that the goal is to eliminate all mutants, Natives and human sympathisers of these two groups. Keeping the child alive is out of the question!”

Thunder nodded, understanding though he did not like it. There had to be some way to steal the child after it had been born…Maybe he could get Cecilia to give it to him and he could give it to Ororo? Raising the baby would give her something to do besides coming up with suicidal escape plans. Thinking about it he began to like the idea. He could create his own private haven…With time he would forget that the child Ororo was raising was not his…he could let it be his. It could be as if his son had never died.

“An abortion is risky. You could risk losing the woman. If you let her give birth naturally she will not be at risk and…and you can still do as you please with the child afterwards,” Thunder suggested, trying to keep his distress at the subject out of his voice. The captain gave him a soul-piercing look.

“I would hate to think you have alternative motives for wishing me to wait,” the captain said with deadly calm.

Thunder had known the captain long enough to heed the warning signs of beginning anger. “I care not for the woman. I am merely doing my duty which is to inform you of how to get the most out of the slaves.”

The captain looked uncertain but then decided to believe him. “Very well. Let her be for now but when the time comes I want you to be present at the birth and I want you to kill the baby…before my eyes.”

Thunder paled. “Before your eyes?”

“Let’s just call it a small test of loyalty.”

Thunder managed to keep his composure only with great difficulty. “I did not think you would deem it necessary to test my loyalty, sir.” For some reason it hurt him that the captain mistrusted him, even if it had been justified.

“You are not here to think,” the captain snapped, annoyed by Michael’s protests. After all he had done for him…all he had turned him into. Michael was strong now…he was a survivor. As a captured child he should have perished in the harsh environment but the captain had turned him into something more and better than the frightened child he had been. How dare Michael refuse him anything? All that was Michael belonged to him…all of him! “Are you refusing my order?”

Thunder stiffed, knowing he was being baited. “No, sir.”

“Good. Then we have nothing further to talk about. Resume your duties.”

“As you wish.” Thunder parted from the captain and began to walk away, his thoughts dark. He could not refuse the captain’s order and this was one scenario he could not manipulate. The baby would have to die...by his own hands. Abhorrent as the thought was to him, he would do it if he had to. He would not die for a principle. He knew if he refused to kill the baby someone else would just kill it instead and all he would earn for refusing an order would be a painful death and that was if he was lucky. Suddenly he found himself wishing that just one of Ororo’s crazy escape plans could succeed. He forced himself not to think about it, he could not change it anyway. He forced himself not to remember, not to think about what he would have to do because if he did he wasn’t sure if his heart would not give in and betray him at the critical moment.


	32. The Tide’s About To Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rescue party has arrived!

## The Tide’s About To Turn

“Ok, are we all ready?” Alex asked from inside Warren’s large yacht they had borrowed of his parents for the occasion.

They had all sailed towards Genosha for the rescue operation. All save Sinister and Apocalypse who Eric had thrown out and left behind, God only knew where, after Eric had discovered Sinister had planned to have Alex kidnapped to study him, with Apocalypse’s help. The two men were now sworn enemies of both the X-Men and the Brotherhood and they would have to keep a watchful eye out for them in the future but all had been quiet from them so far. All the same, Alex and Eric had moved the day of their attack two days earlier than planned in case the two men should try to get back at them by selling them out. This incident hadn’t been the only setback to their plans. The school had had some tax issues which Warren had fought to get cleared up. Then Betsy had come under investigation for an assassination of the leader of an anti-mutant hate group, which had tried to kill Warren, and Warren had fought to clear her name. The justice of money was poetic as she walked free from the murder of a murderer. Besides this, they had had a few minor injures during training and some heated debates over what was an acceptable death toll for their enemies. In the end Alex had given in; Eric and everyone else could kill whomever they wished on Genosha as long as the first priority was to rescue their friends. Finally, after all this, the day of the attack had come after a little less than a month of training and preparation where everyone had been happy to finally have something to do, a date to look forward to. And now…finally they were doing it!

They were as close to the coastline of Genosha as they dared, the night hiding the ship from the guards on the beach. Betsy looked at her team and they all nodded in turn.

“Ready,” she confirmed.

“Then go and remember to be quick. We can’t avoid the main alarm going off at some point but let’s postpone it for as long as possible,” Eric said and Betsy nodded.

“Be careful, love,” Warren requested as he kissed Betsy on the lips while the rest of the group went to the deck.

“You too,” she said warmly and the pair went to the deck, Eric and Alex following them while the others got ready downstairs.

“Emma, when arriving, you and Betsy telepathically attack the guards. Sean, you take out the guards in the middle flanked by the girls. Warren, fly with Betsy, who’ll be covering you, and Kurt, teleport inside the largest bunker where, according to Eric’s sources…” Alex began, drilling them yet again over the series of events about to take place.

“Then I’m sure it’s true,” Emma interrupted sarcastically, still not trusting their temporary ally. Alex gave her a dirty look.

“…the general alarm will be activated from there, if we don't get to it first,” Alex went on, ignoring the interruption. He turned to his lover. “Lorna, you take the bunker and meet Kurt inside as soon as possible. Betsy, you contact me telepathically when the cannons are down, alright?” Alex asked as the first team got ready to fly away.

“I’ll do it or Emma can,” Betsy nodded in understanding, letting him know that if she was unconscious or killed, Emma would give the signal in her place.

“Okay,” Alex nodded and turned to Lorna, taking her in his arms and kissing her. “Be careful,” he whispered as they drew apart, fighting to hide the fear he had for her safety. She smiled warmly, her fear forgotten in the rush of the adrenaline the coming battle gave her.

“I always am.” With that she flew a little above the deck and nodded to the beautiful Asian girl.

“You coming, Bets?”

“Yeah. Strike team follow me,” she said and created a shadow-hole to walk through with Warren by her side and the others following behind.

“That’s it, then. It has begun,” Eric murmured as the others joined him and Alex on the deck. As soon as the coast was clear they could sail to shore and hide the boat in a safe place until it was time to leave, hopefully with their missing friends.

“It has. Let’s hope that the battle will be over before this time tomorrow or we’ll have the entire Genoshan army on our heels,” Alex said and suddenly felt very tired. It was as if he was always fighting against time. Only this time…he’d win or die trying.

* * *

Black Thunder walked down the hallway. It was ten in the evening and he had gone around to make sure all force shields were closed and all mutants in their cells. He reached his own room and a small smile graced his lips as he went in.

“Hi,” Ororo said and lit up in a smile as she saw him. She had been sitting on the bed, drawing escape plans on a piece of paper. Now she stood and walked to him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“Wind Rider,” he said and brought his lips softly against hers. She deepened the kiss before drawing back.

She had been with him for around eight months now and she no longer hid the warm feelings she had grown to have for her only living contact in the world, her natural need for human contact making the emotions rise easily. Despite all the escape plans she drew, by now she wasn’t sure if she wanted to leave. Things had fallen into a rhythm and she was safe here. Looked after. Out there in the real world she could be hurt again. If he had said she was free to leave his room without him and she would be in no danger if she did so then at this point she wouldn’t have left. It was emotions so ingrown in her that she didn’t even register them.

“So, how was it today? How is Jean? And the professor? Kitty and the baby?” Ororo asked as she began preparing some bread, butter and ham for their dinner. Black Thunder had some time ago returned all the objects to his room that he had removed as he had seen Ororo was more focused on her wild escape plans and on him, her only link to the outside world, and wasn’t a danger to herself or him any longer.

“They are all doing fine. I arranged for the professor to sleep in sickbay with Gabrielle.” he let her know, as always only telling her some positive news and in doing so he unconsciously drew her even closer to him and even further apart from the real world. With him the world was painted in nice tones but outside the room he couldn’t pretend his illusion was the only truth. This made his room, his presence, the only safe place to be for her as he became her lifeline. She had in the beginning asked him to try and contact the others for her, to let them know she was all right, especially Remy, but he had insisted it was too dangerous should anyone overhear. However, he knew why he had never truly tried to establish contact between Ororo and her friends; he wanted her all for himself. With him as her only link to the outside world she needed him and would continue to need him and depend on him; she could not leave him. By now she had stopped asking him to contact the others, accepting things were the way they were.

“Good,” Ororo nodded at his reply, not asking anything else.

They rarely discussed his work. They had only once, when she had asked and he had emotionlessly told her. Told her of executions, interrogations and punishments. They hadn’t spoken for a week because of that. In the end Black Thunder had asked if she couldn’t try and see him as two people: one who loved her and one who worked for the captain. It had been the first time he had said the word ‘love’ and it had brought joy to her heart but still there were things she needed to know. He had promised to answer all her questions honestly but she hadn’t been ready to hear the answers yet so they had postponed it until tonight. They slept in the bed together, pillows between them no longer necessary as Ororo would often lean against him, but they hadn’t had sex. She had sometimes tried but he had seen the attempts for what they were: her unconscious attempt to see if he really respected her choice and thus he had turned her down.

“Wind Rider…Ro’, how do you want to do this?” Black Thunder asked softly as he helped her put the dinner on the floor and they seated themselves across from each other, somehow knowing this night would be different than any other. She bit her lower lip, a sign he had come to know meant that she was thinking.

“Can’t I just ask you something and you answer; honestly?”

“Very well,” he agreed and made two sandwiches while waiting for her to begin. He handed her one and bit into the other.

“Well?” he asked as the silence dragged on.

“Hmm…Have you…you know…killed someone?” she finally got out. She had to admit to herself, although she couldn’t bring herself to tell him, that she was falling in love with him. She wanted to know what kind of man had stolen her heart. Despite her insistence that she did love him, faint warning bells had gone off in her mind. Did she truly love him or was it something else? She had heard of the Stockholm syndrome; it talked about prisoners falling in love with their captives out of need, gratitude for still being alive and a desire to end punishment and please their captor. She shook her head. No, it wasn’t like that. True, there was gratitude and need but she didn’t fear him…maybe a little at first and he did hold power over her but it still wasn’t like that…no, she wouldn’t believe that. Wouldn’t even consider it. Things were confusing enough. She didn’t need this confusion in her head as well. She shook her head to clear her mind of all thoughts like that; things became way too complicated if they were true and frankly she didn’t want them to be true.

”I have,” he said, no regret in his voice, actually not much emotion in it at all.

She frowned. This wasn’t really helping her if he continued to only answer with so few words. “And?” she probed when he didn’t elaborate. He looked at her, puzzled. “How many?” she then asked.

“Numbers? I don’t know,” he saw the look in her eyes and added, ”My job here is many things. One is to terminate disobedient guards.”

“Have you ever killed mutants?” she wanted to know and hoped for a no. Killing guards was one thing; after her rape she had no great love for any guards though rationally she knew that some of them could be good men risking their lives to save some of the captured mutants.

“I have.” Seeing her look he explained, “I had a period right after Silver Moon’s death where I went through each day like a robot. I remembered only my job. I felt no emotions at all. After some time my emotions began to return as the mind washing I had been subject to during my torture after my son’s death began to wear off. I asked the captain to allow me to return to overlooking the guards and the health of the slaves and not be directly involved with the execution and punishment of the slaves. However, there are still times where it is impossible for me not to kill mutants.” Black Thunder finished his explanation in as few and truthful words as possible and now she could hear a small flicker of sadness and regret in his voice yet she didn’t know that the emotions were mostly due to the fact that he hadn’t told her everything. At times he did have to kill slaves, mutants, Natives or human sympathisers and sometimes still he supervised interrogations even if he didn’t conduct them. When involved in interrogations he always did his best to break a prisoner by playing with their minds. To him this was kinder than torturing them though the result would be the same; the betrayal of other slaves or humans sympathetic to their cause. He had never enjoyed hurting others but he had always done what he had to do to survive. Any slave who had survived in the compound for more than a year would have reached the same conclusion.

She leaned over and stroked his cheek, unaware of his inner thoughts.

“It wasn’t your fault then. It was the drugs and the torture. It wasn’t you. You had no choice then and you still don’t,” she said, wanting her words to be true not only for him but for her as well. This was the only way she could see things and live with it…it had to be this way.

“Maybe but it was still my hands which killed,” he whispered sadly, remembering Equalia and her last words to him. Pulling himself together he sat up straighter and found her eyes again as he took another bite of his sandwich. ”So, what else?” he asked and she knew there wasn’t more to be said about this subject.

“You talk of Gabrielle. Why is she still in sickbay?” Ororo wanted to know. She wasn’t jealous about that. It didn’t matter that Gabrielle was one of the few people that Black Thunder talked about by himself without her almost forcing information out of him. Okay, she admitted it. It did bother her. She didn’t want him to talk of another woman. It made her afraid of losing him. If she lost him she would be alone; he was her only link to the outside world. He couldn’t leave her now.

“She hardly knows I exist. Not consciously anyway. You see, right after my torture and death of my wife, several highly placed members of the rebel resistance group were captured. Gabrielle was one of them.” His deep black eyes took on a hunted look and Ororo got a grim suspicion.

“Oh, no,” she whispered but Black Thunder continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

“The captain wanted to know where the rest of the group was, who their contacts were and so forth.” He looked directly at her as if daring her to draw back from him. She didn’t. “I tortured Gabrielle for days but she didn’t say anything at all. I was called away for another assignment for a few weeks and when I returned she had been reduced to little more than a vegetable. She was to be terminated but at that time the brainwashing they had given me had worn off. "There was no mistaking the guilt in his voice, the anguish, and Ororo felt sorry for him and took his hand in hers. His lips curved into a smile as he looked down at their intertwined fingers.

“So…” Ororo probed gently, a little taken back with herself for accepting his explanation so quickly and for pushing her sympathy for the strange woman to the back of her mind, thinking only of comforting him…fearing only that he might leave her. Something in her mind told her that it shouldn’t be like this but she wouldn’t listen, didn’t want to. This was her one and only shot at happiness and she would take it.

“I did what I could. I brought her to the Medicine Woman…Cecilia, ”he specified as he saw her confused look. “I said to the captain that she had been terminated and asked for my old job back, which I got as the captain said my skills were needed there and that he trusted I had learned my lesson and wouldn’t stray again. Since then I have watched over Gabrielle, making sure no one comes too near her.”

“But you had given up on her…until…” Ororo said, beginning to understand.

“Until the professor brought her back. I thought at first that it was a false hope but now I know it isn’t. She still doesn’t talk, probably never will, but yesterday I saw her smile and I knew that the professor was just right for her,” Black Thunder said and happiness and acceptance were in his voice.

“And that’s why you let the professor stay with her in sickbay even though if they are discovered…” Ororo said softly, knowing the great risk that Gabrielle, Xavier and Black Thunder were running this night. They sat in silence for a while until she asked what had been on her mind for some time now, actually from the beginning.

“Did you…ever…take…a woman without her permission?” she got out and tried to keep images of strangers’ cruel hands all over her body from her mind. Sometimes Black Thunder responded to the issue of rape in a way she couldn’t figure a man would who, as far as she knew, had had nothing to do with such a terrible thing.

“You mean rape her?” Ororo nodded and he went on. “No, never.”

“Not even when you were…not yourself?”

“No, not even then. I have never raped anyone or tortured or killed children. I have never tortured any woman besides Gabrielle,” Black Thunder admitted and his voice held pain for that woman whose life he had been a willing player in destroying. The Native religion and belief that women and children should be respected and cared for had been tainted but never been ruined by the captain’s training and those two groups remained the only groups he would do his best to protect. Ororo drew a relieved breath at this before she figured out what his words were implying.

“You have…tortured…men?” Ororo wanted to know.

“At times. Mostly guards, white human males,” he specified and shrugged his shoulders as if their lives weren’t important to him, which they weren’t. “But there have been times where I have both tortured and killed male slaves, though I don’t enjoy it. I had little say in the matter,” Thunder said without much emotion at all. He was used to his life not being his own and had no trouble admitting he had no control over it. He finished his meal and saw she had finished hers as well.

“Oh,” Ororo just said and said nothing else while Black Thunder cleaned up after their dinner. Then he sat back down beside her and caught her hands in his, drawing circles with his thumb on their soft skin.

“I’m no angel but I never claimed to be. However , my love for you is true and I’ll never hurt you and yours,” he said seriously and leaned in for a kiss. She put her arms around him, finally at peace now that she knew what kind of man he was. He wouldn’t hurt her. She knew that now.

“I love you,” she finally whispered against his lips and he smiled; he had what he wanted, what he had sought. He looked into her eyes and asked a silent question. She nodded and he gently lifted her up and carried her to the bed, laying her on it. He kissed her again and began to unbutton the shirt she had borrowed from him. He felt her stiffen as his hand brushed the soft skin of her belly.

“I won’t hurt you. Ever. Say no and I stop,” he whispered against her lips as he kissed her again, feverishly hoping she wouldn’t say no as his body was inflamed with desire.

“No, I want to. I love you,” Ororo whispered and lifted Black Thunder’s shirt off him, drawing figures on his broad chest with her fingers. ‘I want to’…He took that as a sign that she really meant it this time, that it wasn’t another test of his resolve that her subconscious mind was putting him through. Wondering how to make this easier for her his mind came up with an idea and he lay down beside her and she leaned over him, taking charge and letting their first lovemaking continue at her speed, having full control.


	33. Escape!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-men start their escape

## Escape!

‘Boom, bang, BOOM!’

Ororo turned in her sleep and leaned closer to Black Thunder. He lay still for a while, having been awakened earlier by the sound. It sounded like gunfire, or maybe even heavy artillery. He waited for the sounds to come again.

‘BOOM!’

This time the noise was followed by the sound of people running, orders being shouted and people screaming in confusion and panic. He jumped from the bed to stand naked on the floor, making a quick decision. The compound had only once before, when he had been a young boy, come under attack. The Government troops had managed to come out victorious and the rebel forces had never again been able to gather that large an army. Therefore, for this attack to take place either the Government’s intel was incorrect, which he doubted, or the rebels had outside help if in fact the attack wasn’t done solely by outsiders. Recalling Ororo’s words about the X-men’s loyalty and resources he guessed the X-men were behind the attack. He had doubted her faith in her fiends had been justified but it seemed to have been. If in fact the X-men, or any other outsiders, were behind the attack it would mean they had a way off the island. It was a gamble to be sure. If he used this confusion to try and escape with Ororo then to do so he would need safe passage off the island. And even if it was the X-men who were behind the attack they might not allow him to come with them away from the island as he had been working for their enemy for so long. His mutant power of flight was not strong enough to allow him to fly all the way across the sea from Genosha to the nearest coast, which was America, so he needed help off the island. Yet this was the best chance he had ever had. Staying behind could easily prove a fatal move. Even if he survived the initial attack then the power structure could easily change and without the captain’s aid and protection he would be left to the mercy of his enemies which, he had to admit, he had quite a few of even among the guards and soldiers. All in all escape was the best plan of action at this time and a gamble worth taking. The reward would be a life in freedom…anything else he would worry about later. For now it was a question of survival.

“Ororo, get up,” he reached over and lay a hand on her arm, shaking her back and forth.

“Hmm? What?” she sat up in bed, looking confused.

“Get dressed. We’re under attack,” Black Thunder said and hurried to dress in pants of skin and an open vest before putting on his gun holsters. The guns themselves he had to turn in every evening before he went to his cell but Ororo’s plan of escape where he took a gun from a guard now didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Ororo jumped out of bed and slipped the long, plain white dress over her head that Black Thunder had given her some days ago as he tied his hair in the back of his neck.

“By the way…” he began as he checked his gun holsters to be sure they were properly strapped on before he smiled at her. “You look radiant.” She blushed prettily and smiled back.

“Thank you.” It was more than the compliment she thanked for but also his willingness to attempt an escape with her.

“I know of your vow not to kill, love, but if the need arises...” he began and took her hand, taking her to the door. She nodded grimly in understanding but still didn’t like the idea of killing people now that her initial anger at the guards in general had cooled down by logic and her strong sense of compassion for every living thing.

Ororo felt her heart beat wildly in her chest. Finally it seemed as if they were going somewhere. Going away. Going home. She fought back her panic over leaving the small room which had been her safe harbour for so long, drawing strength from the fact that Black Thunder was with her, the man who had saved her once before. A part of her suddenly didn’t want to leave the room. Her life had been simple there. Out in the real world a lot of things that she had refused to think about or analyse would come to the surface. She forced those thoughts down. This was not the time to think about that.

As Thunder opened the door to the hallway, the screams and general noise got louder. She had to admit that a part of her would miss the old room, because even though she had been there involuntarily she had some good memories from it. Like last night.

Black Thunder opened the door wide and went out, Ororo behind him. There was massive confusion in the hallway, soldiers running back and forth, and a part of the wall to the left had fallen down. If they did not do something soon most of the slaves would be killed in the crossfire. They moved down the hallway as suddenly a column of five soldiers ran in the opposite direction. Thunder pressed Ororo up against the wall, partly hiding them in the shadows. The soldiers ran past them, too busy fighting the enemy to look more closely in their direction. As the last of the soldiers were to ran past them Thunder stretched out his arm and hit the soldier on the windpipe, killing him by the power of the blow and the crashing sound his skull made when he fell backwards to the floor. Ororo’s eyes were fixated on the man’s dead but open eyes and the way his face had been caught between showing surprise and pain with a mixture of morbid fascination and repulsion. The only thing running through her mind was a shocked realisation that despite having been a prisoner for eight months then she had never seen a body before and that the dead soldier looked more alive than a dead man should. Thunder made sure no one else was in the hallway before he knelt by the body and searched the man for weapons. He found two guns and took one himself, handing the other to Ororo only after a moment’s hesitation. He had never been big on trust but he had to trust her now in a way he hadn’t needed to do before. Ororo reluctantly accepted the weapon as Thunder took the dead soldier’s knife and put it in the waistline of his pants.

“Come,” Thunder took her hand and broke the spell that had kept her rooted to the spot. He let go of her hand as the moved further ahead, holding his gun ready for any surprises. He had no clear plans but he was heading towards sickbay to pick up Cecelia to get her out while there was still time. He was sure that if the compound looked to be lost then the Government troops would kill as many of the slaves as they could and an easy place to start that was sickbay. However, the collars were still a problem and on the way to sickbay he played the only card he could; he searched for the captain’s office in hopes he in there would find information that could explain how the collars could come off.

“In here,” Black Thunder said to Ororo when he found the door to the captain’s office and they went inside. “Captain?” he called, his voice instinctively taking on a respectful and obedient tone as his eyes searched the messy office for any documents of value. The mess betrayed that the captain had either attempted to gather important documents to destroy them or someone had gone through them in an attempt to find something.

Going behind the desk he found the captain lying on the floor, his hands pressed against a gunshot wound in his chest. Blood from the wound was running out between the man’s fingers. For a second Thunder was too shocked to move. Seeing the captain down was like seeing a mountain overturn. Then pulling himself together Black Thunder knelt beside him and held the captain in his arms with a gentleness that surprised Ororo and probably also Thunder himself if he had realized it. Ororo didn’t quite know what to do as the amount of blood and the captain’s condition left her in no doubt that he was dying. She quietly reached out and put a calming hand on Black Thunder’s shoulder, offering what comfort she could. She looked from the captain to Black Thunder, remembering what he had told her of the captain. She had no doubt that what she was witnessing was a classic Stockholm syndrome; Black Thunder showed all the signs from gratitude to fear and need. Again that small voice in her head asked her if Black Thunder’s reaction to the captain was any different from hers to BT. No. No, it couldn’t be. Her own feelings for Black Thunder were nothing like this; didn’t the fact that she even feared it prove that she did care for him of her own free will? Didn’t it? The silence in her mind, her own inability to give a clear and loud ‘Yes!’ made her fight back her own thoughts, fighting to keep her mind on the present.

“Michael?” the older man rasped, blood running out of the corners of his mouth.

“Yes. How bad is it?” Black Thunder asked and laid a hand over the man’s wound, trying to stop the bleeding. The captain had always seemed so strong, invincible in Black Thunder’s mind. To see him wounded…fallen…It was like watching a strange natural disaster.

“It is…too…early to tell. We could lose or we could win. So far no intruders have entered the compound. The fighting is still in midtown,” he said, having misread Thunder’s question of concern for his welfare as one of concern for the nation, and despite his wound and pain there was pride in his voice over this achievement from the army.

“Who shot you?” Black Thunder asked softly. He had a feeling that the intruders, probably some of the X-Men with or without some members of the rebel army, had decided to try one last desperate frontal attack but in any case they couldn’t have reached this far already. He assumed the attack had started last night at the beach somewhere and progressed here during the night as it was around three in the morning.

“…You were right, Michael. Sergeant Philip couldn’t be trusted,” the old man said weakly and smiled at him, a smile that turned into a grimace. “He saw his chance to rise to power and took it. Damn boy!” Despite the curse and his anger, the captain held a faint note of admiration for the sergeant who had dared to do this…been this bold and risked to lose everything if his plan failed. That note of admiration in the captain’s voice had Black Thunder wince, wishing it had been directed at him instead.

“Captain…” There was something in Black Thunder’s voice that Ororo had only heard in the heat of passion last night; kindness…love. “…Father…the keys to the collars. You know where they are. I have some limited healing powers. I may be able to heal you if you free me.” His voice was soft, gentle. Ororo tried to hide her shock. Father? He couldn’t mean it like that. It was probably because the captain had cared for him since his parents died. On the other hand, he had said that his father had been tortured but hadn’t said he had been killed. He had also told her he had been a white human which the captain was and the age fitted. Could it be…? It would certainly shatter her Stockholm syndrome theory in favour of something stranger and darker but much stronger. If he was Black Thunder’s father…could she accept that? Could she even accept him outside these walls? Gunshots and yelling in the distance made those thoughts disappear. One thing at a time. Right now their main concern was getting out alive.

The captain looked at Black Thunder and something flickered in his voice and eyes; love for a man who, blood or not, had been like a lost son. “…promise me….something first,” the captain rasped weakly but his voice still held an edge of steel.

“Very well,” Black Thunder agreed as always, never once considering disobeying the captain’s request.

“Kill Sergeant Philip!” The captain reached out a hand and Black Thunder took it in a firm and strong grip.

“I will,” he vowed and it would be a vow he would enjoy upholding. Sergeant Brian Philip had always done his best to make Black Thunder’s life and work difficult as his torture of him the night Ororo had been kidnapped had also proved. He had a chip on his shoulder and a clear hate for all mutants since some rebels had killed his parents. Knowing this human had killed the captain only made Black Thunder’s hate for him burn all the brighter.

The old man smiled and nodded weakly.

“Lean over me,” he asked. Black Thunder looked puzzled but did as bid. The captain reached a shaking and blood covered hand up and let its fingers brush against the lock on Black Thunder’s collar. It sprung open and Black Thunder put the collar on the floor. It was strange. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t worn it and now…now it was gone.

Having no time to consider the wonders of freedom Black Thunder laid his hands over the captain’s wound and concentrated, hoping he could still focus his powers after having been denied the use of them for so long. A beam of light came from his hands and he closed his eyes. He tried all he could but the wound was too severe. He drew back, exhausted.

“I…can’t help you,” he admitted, hating himself for his inability to do so, for showing such weakness now when the captain needed him most of all but the captain just nodded.

“I didn’t think you’d be able to.” There was a look to his eyes and an edge to his voice that Black Thunder had never heard before. He didn’t know what to say. If the captain had opened his collar knowing he couldn’t be helped then maybe…

“Ororo,” Black Thunder asked and she stood forth and leaned over the dying man. He let his fingers brush over her lock as well and it sprang open and she took it off with a satisfied smile.

“How do we free the others?” Black Thunder asked as Ororo rejoiced in the return of her powers, creating a small wind inside the office, making a ring of papers fly in the air around them. The captain had always been a loyal soldier. Since he had joined the Government’s army he had always done as he had been told. Yet now, for once, he would do something for himself. Helping release a few slaves would mean little. They had no way off the island anyway, yet it would speak trouble for the new leader of the compound, making the captain’s own record stand far above his. He could feel his life slipping away and in his dying hour he felt the burden of a life lived for responsibility but never for personal happiness. His mind called forth a memory, an image, of a woman, his wife. Dead for so many years she belonged to another life and another time yet as his memory smiled at him he knew what she would have wished him to do…and he knew that he owed her this and so much more. He had kept his vow to her to make sure their son was safe but he had betrayed her, her ideals and her people. His love for her who had been labelled an enemy of the Government, had always been his only weakness, his only mistake in an otherwise flawless military record of servitude to the Government but despite his best effects to kill that love it wouldn’t go away. Now, at the end of his life he allowed that weakness to shine through one last time.

“They are coded after the DNA code of all soldiers from sergeant and above so these can open them the way I did,” he said weakly and lifted a hand to touch Black Thunder’s face lightly, leaving a trail of blood on his face. “You never believed in what you did, yet you did it well. Over the years….” The words Black Thunder wished to hear didn’t come. “…I…am…proud…of…you,” the old man rasped instead before his eyes stiffened and his chest didn’t rise again.

Black Thunder just held him for a while, puzzled as to why a man so devoted to duty had helped them. Had he been trying to seek forgiveness for past sins? Was it just a dying man’s slip of the tongue? Or…or could it be because he had cared for him? Really cared? Maybe even…maybe even loved him like Black Thunder had loved him?

Now he would never know. He closed the older man’s eyes and stood, taking Ororo’s hand and they walked out on the hallway again. Thunder held his gun ready and as soldiers came towards them Thunder got ready to shoot.

“We have to find a sergeant or someone with higher rank,” Ororo said and smiled in satisfaction as she, with a thought, let a wind appear out of nowhere and sweep the soldiers off their feet, knocking them into the wall. Thunder lowered his gun a little and smiled at her. She was truly a powerful mutant and if just she would kill she could become a very powerful soldier. Thunder shook his head. Those thoughts were his training talking. If they should manage to live through this he was sure being a soldier was not high up on Ororo’s list of things to do.

She let a wind come to her and she flew a little above the floor and looked questionably at him, making him come out of his musings.

“We’ll take Sergeant Philip. Down here,” Black Thunder said and with a thought he flew up and down the hallway. Soldiers saw them and pointed their weapons at them at Black Thunder drew his own weapon. “Ororo?” he asked over his shoulder. Several soldiers uselessly pressed the activate button for the collars until they with a look of shock and fear saw that they didn’t wear any.

“Here.” In reply to his unasked question, she threw him the gun he had given her and he caught it in his free hand. While he began to shoot at the soldiers with both hands, she flew towards him and let a wind take away the soldiers’ guns and then another wind slam them into a wall. She watched with a smile as they fell down and lost consciousness beside the dead soldiers Black Thunder had shot.

They hurried on knowing time was of the essence. As they flew around a corner, Ororo flew beside Black Thunder as he yelled, “That’s him!” and pointed to a man standing surrounded by some 20 soldiers, yelling orders.

“Escaped slaves. Shoot them!” Philip demanded as they were spotted and firing began.

“They don’t wear the collars!” A soldier warned the others and they gave up trying to use the controls in favour of guns.

“Ororo,” Black Thunder began but no words were necessary. She let a lighting bolt form in her hand and threw it after the soldiers.

“You go get our man, I’ll hold them back,” she said and let a wind appear. He smiled at her, proud to see her work so efficiently.

“Right,” he nodded and while flying towards the sergeant, he fired his weapons at the scattering guards, killing a few. He holstered one of his guns as he landed next to Philip, having one pointed towards him.

“Long time, no see,” Philip said with a leer and raised his weapon but Black Thunder was quicker and placed his under the man’s chin, taking the gun from the sergeant’s grip and throwing it on the floor.

“Not nearly long enough,” Black Thunder growled and pushed him harshly in front of him, back towards Ororo.

“That’s him?” Ororo asked as she landed next to him, having finished off all the guards so they now lay unconscious on the floor.

“Yes,” Black Thunder said and flew up with Philip in his arms, his gun never leaving him as Ororo followed him. They quickly flew to sickbay and entered. Chaos was there as well, though Cecelia and her staff were trying unsuccessfully to keep some kind of order.

“Cecilia?” Black Thunder yelled over the screams and cries of the frightened patients.

“Yes? What is it?” She demanded to know, sounding very busy as she came to them. She looked very stressed as she tried to calm the patients down. She walked over to them as she saw who had spoken and starred at his feet which were a little above the floor in shock and surprise.

“You…you’re flying! You’re free!” she said in wonder and unconsciously touched her own collar.

“Undo hers!” Black Thunder demanded sharply as he landed on the floor, pressing the gun hard against the man’s chin. Philip seemed torn. He didn’t wish to die but he couldn’t have any part in treasonous acts, which allowed mutants to run away freely. Seeing his hesitation Black Thunder removed the gun from Philip ‘s face with a quick motion, only to shoot him low in right leg, below the kneecap.

“Auuuuuuuuuuu!” Philip screamed in pain as Back Thunder forced him to stand up straight.

“My God, Thunder!” Cecilia yelled, horrified, but he ignored her.

“Undo it now or I’ll shoot off both your kneecaps!” His voice was calm but held an edge of steel. The same edge the captain’s had had, Ororo noticed. The edge that clearly betrayed he would do what he threatened to do and he’d have no regrets about it.

“Okay, okay,” Philip gasped in pain as he reluctantly brushed his fingers against Cecilia’s collar and it fell to the floor. She touched her neck.

“I’m free!” she said in a low voice filled with wonder.

”Now, you and I are going to go for a little walk around the hospital,” Black Thunder demanded, knowing Ororo would wish to search for the professor. He forced the pained man to move with him to the beds and touch each of the mutants’ collars, giving them back their powers and a better chance of survival not to mention a way to help cover Thunder’s own escape and keep the guards busy.

“Where is Charles?” Ororo asked and Cecilia looked at her.

“Tell me, you remind me of that woman Charles talks about…the white haired mutant…Storm,” Cecilia said as she led Ororo to a bed where Gabrielle and Charles sat, her head pressed against his chest. In the confusion no one had had the time to lift him to his wheelchair.

“I am she,” Ororo said as Charles spotted her and looked shocked, but happy.

“Storm, you’re alive!” he said, surprise and joy written all over his face and she smiled.

“I found them,” Ororo yelled and Black Thunder forced Philip with him as several mutants flew, ran or otherwise disappeared from the hospital.

“Undo his,” Black Thunder demanded and Philip touched Charles collar and let it fall to the floor.

“Thank you,” Charles said warmly and felt truly alive for the first time since their capture. He could feel and sense as he used to again. As he focused on Gabrielle he could read her love easily and he sent his back and she smiled at him, surprised but happy that they could now communicate so easily.

“We need to go now,” Black Thunder said and dragged Philip with him. The sound of heavy fighting confirmed his words.

“But Charles…” Cecilia began worried.

“Will be all right now. Finally,” Charles finished with satisfaction as Ororo made him fly up from the bed to hover a few millimetre’s above the floor. It looked like he walked on air as Ororo let Gabrielle fly to him, and she rode the wind beside him, taking firm hold of his hand. Gabrielle’s eyes were shooting daggers at Black Thunder’s back; her ordeal at his hands never forgotten nor forgiven.

“This way,” Black Thunder said and flew towards the X-Men’s cell, Charles with Gabrielle right behind him and then Ororo holding them up.

“Wait. I can’t fly!” Cecilia protested and Black Thunder stopped in midair.

“Ororo, can you…?” he asked, not sure how many people she could handle levitating at the same time.

“Of course,” Ororo replied and called a wind to her and let it take Cecilia off her feet.

“We’ll meet 35 soldiers up ahead, just around this corner,” Charles warned as they flew nearer the X-Men’s cell.

“Ororo and Cecilia, fly in front,” Black Thunder ordered and the two women flew first.

“I’ll make a force field around us all. It’ll protect us but it can’t harm them,” Cecilia said and a kind of bubble appeared around them all. They came around the corner and shots were fired at them but bounced off the shield Cecilia had made. Black Thunder fired his guns at the soldiers and Charles attacked their minds while Ororo let a wind knock them into a wall. Soon they had defeated them; Black Thunder’s victims lay dead while the rest of them were just unconscious.

“We should kill them all to make sure they can’t come after us again,” Black Thunder said and pointed his gun at one of the unconscious guards. With a thought Charles forced Black Thunder to holster his gun.

“They live,” Charles insisted. Black Thunder looked furious but after what the older man had made him do he realised that Charles could just as easily have forced him to shoot himself.

“It’s your funeral,” Black Thunder mumbled with barely contained anger.

Having no time to waste they continued towards the others’ cell. It was now they had the chance for freedom. The fight was on and this war couldn’t end in a draw. As Thunder saw it, it was kill or be killed and compassion for the enemy and in general was a weakness they could not afford. However seeing Xavier’s strength he let it go, hoping a confrontation between them would not be necessary. For now there was more important things to focus on. This battle had to be won. It was a fight till the end. Until victory or death. There was no in betweens; there were no compromises here.


	34. The Greatest Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some give all to ensure the X-men can escape and make it back home

## The Greatest Love

The group lead by Cecilia and Ororo flew around a corner and came upon the X-Men’s cell, flying past other cells on their way. All the prisoners were awake, many standing at the shields holding them in as they tried to figure out what the noise was, fighting back the hope that it could mean their freedom.

As they stopped before the X-Men’s cell they saw that they also were on their feet but, as with all the slaves, the force shields were on and caged them in. Ororo landed first and then set Cecilia down beside her. She sat Gabrielle down on the floor but let Xavier stay a few millimetres in the air, as it was easier to protect him like that instead of having him on the floor. There was so little air between Xavier’s feet and the floor that one had to know he wasn’t walking to see it.

Ororo cast a look behind her and saw Black Thunder coming up to them, Philip still held at gunpoint before him like a shield even as he flew to catch up with her. She nodded at him and with a thought let a wind hold up Black Thunder’s captive so he didn’t have to hold him. Black Thunder sank to the floor and with a nod to Ororo indicated she should lower Philip to the floor, which she did. Philip sensed an opportunity and made a motion as if to make a run for it but Black Thunder was on him at once, his gun pointing straight at him. With a sigh Philip stood still, forced to accept that he was still a prisoner. Black Thunder drew Philip with him into the shadows of the darkened hallway, finding it safer to stay out of the X-Men’s direct line of view until they were finished greeting Ororo, though he saw he had little reason for concern. All the caged X-Men’s eyes went to Ororo and no one paid him any mind. Shock and happiness were painted on the X-men’s faces as they all went to stand by the shield to be sure it was really Ororo who had returned to them.

“Ororo!” Jean yelled happily as she saw her friend, longing to hug her. Tears of happiness threatened to fall from her eyes; it was really her.

“Stormy,” Remy cried happily and only at the last moment he remembered the shield that separated him from the woman he cared so deeply for. She was alive! It was a miracle. He had never been this happy in his life. She was truly here…she was alive!

“You’re…alive,” Scott commented unnecessarily, confused but clearly as happy as the rest. He had felt responsible for her sufferings and her death; seeing her now made him relieved beyond words though the guilt for her pain remained as he noticed scars on her body and saw her shortened hair.

“I am,” Ororo said gently and smiled shortly at Scott as if she knew the guilt his burden of responsibility brought him, which given that she was his second in command, she probably did. Then her eyes went to Remy and her look softened. “I’m sorry, my dear friend. I would have told you if I could.” The tone spoke of her love and said clearer than words that she felt sad for having added to his pain, making his troubled life even harder for him to bear.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters,” the young man answered with a smile, his voice warm and intense, meaning every word.

“John!” Cecilia yelled as she spotted her younger lover. She went to the fence beside Ororo and people made room so John could come forth. He smiled happily at her, longing to hold her in his arms again.

“Cecilia. Are you all right?" he whispered softly, relieved to see her unhurt but needing to be sure and was rewarded with a warm smile and a nod of her head in answer.

“Alright, stand back,” Black Thunder said, feeling suddenly left out and deserted by all these warm greetings. For a brief second he wished he were back in his room with Ororo; at least there his place and everything around him had been known. From now on he was on very uncertain ground with no allies to back him up.

Ignoring the more or less hated looks he got from the occupants of the cell he opened the force shield, hoping that if one of Ororo’s friends should go for him she’d stand up for him. Though he had her support now, he wasn’t sure he could count on it if they did get out of here. He forced those thoughts from his mind for now; one thing at a time. First they needed to get out of here and it probably wouldn’t be all that easy.

Finally freed, Remy went into Ororo’s arms, giving her a warm embrace that spoke oceans of his love just as John drew Cecilia into a warm embrace. Logan went to stand before Black Thunder, his eyes filled with anger. His look was drawn to the soldier Black Thunder held at gunpoint before him, his gun pressing towards the man’s temple. He tried to look as dangerous and imposing as ever but the loss of his healing factor and the resulting blood poisoning had weakened him. The illness made him weak, sleepy, made him suffer from a fever, hyperventilate, have chills and shake and his skin now felt warm to the touch and he had a few times suffered from delirium. Jean had become very worried at how far his illness had now progressed but so far they had found no treatment that their captors would allow a slave to get.

“What are you doing here and who the fuck is he?” Logan demanded to know as he pointed at the soldier.

“Your ticket out of here. Lean close,” Black Thunder demanded, his voice harsh. Logan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and he was about to comment when Cecilia broke in.

“Will you just do it,” Cecilia snapped impatiently as she drew back from John. She could understand his reluctance to trust Black Thunder but they didn’t have time for this.

“Keep your cool, Doc’,” Logan said irritably but leaned closer all the same. From what the others had told him she was a woman they could trust. Black Thunder pressed his gun hard against the man’s forehead and with shaking fingers Philip touched Logan’s collar and it fell to the floor. Logan felt a surge of energy go through him as his healing factor returned and quickly began to heal all his wounds, including cleansing his blood. As the seconds passed Logan became stronger and better all the time.

“Finally. Let’s kill these bastards!” Logan said satisfied as he made claws appear from his hands, bracing against the intense pain he had come to expect but none came, at least no worse than always, and he eyed Black Thunder with a dangerous glance. Black Thunder returned his look unafraid but Philip, who remained his shield, made a fearful noise at seeing the large man’s rage.

“Logan,” Ororo began but Scott interrupted her.

“Logan, we don’t have time for this,” he yelled impatiently. Logan looked ready to snap at him but before he could say anything Scott continued, “You can always kill him later. Let’s first get out of here." Xavier looked disapprovingly at Logan but didn’t say anything. Logan withdrew his claws but waved a warning finger at Black Thunder.

“You just got lucky, bub.”

“I make my own luck,” Black Thunder replied calmly as their eyes met and locked.

“Logan, guard the left side. We don’t want soldiers to surprise us," Scott continued and broke off their staring match. It was a bit strange to see someone else as the target for Logan’s rage and bad temper instead of himself but Scott had to admit he had little sympathy for Black Thunder. He had been through hell and through it all Logan had supported him, even protected him, and for that Logan and he would remain brothers, forged by a shared experience of pain and grief, something he didn’t share with Black Thunder and thus Logan would always have his support.

Logan went to guard the left side of the group as Scott had requested and Black Thunder dragged Philip with him to undo Scott’s collar.

“Wait. Do the others first. I don’t have my glasses anymore,” Scott asked of him and drew back. Black Thunder nodded and made Philip undo Jean’s, then Rogue’s, John’s, Bobby’s and then finally Jubilee’s collar. All smiled happily as they got their powers back. Bobby made some ice appear in his hand just to be sure it was working and got to tease Jubilee a little by making it snow down on the small firework she had made appear in her hand.

“Soldiers coming,” Charles warned, a hand on his temple as he felt the approaching humans.

“From my side. I can smell ‘em,” Logan supplied.

“They’re approaching from both sides,” Jean added, having also taken a hand to her temple to concentrate better.

“Undo my collar,” Scott asked urgently of Black Thunder. “Form a circle, stand together,” he ordered and the X-Men did as bid, Ororo making sure their strongest offensive people were standing in the front line.

“There you are,” Black Thunder said as Philip undid his collar. Scott had closed his eyes tightly shut as he saw Philip reach out to touch him, relieved that his eyelid on his blind eye still worked as he wasn’t sure if his mutant powers would have disappeared along with his sight. Now the pain in his head intensified as his optic beams powered up. But he forgot all about the pain as his link with Jean came back in full force and he could feel her love through their bond, breaking away months of strain and hardship, fear and doubt between them. Through the bond they could feel everything, nothing could be misread and their love shined through it all, giving them hope that they would manage to get through this.

* Jean, be my eyes. Guide me, * Scott asked through their link.

* Always, love. Always,* Jean replied gently as soldiers appeared. Their leader yelled a command and the soldiers attacked from both sides. They had a wall behind them and their cell in front of them but soldiers began to fill the hallway and from left and right shooting began as at least 40 soldiers attacked from each side.

“John, stay with me,” Cecilia asked and made a protective force shield around them. Cecilia handed John a lighter she had stolen and hidden in her pocket, hoping to be able to use it to bargain with the soldiers who gave food, medicine or other smaller things in return for whatever the prisoners might offer them. Now it came in good use as John began to throw fire after their attackers. Cecilia tried to expand the shield to include all the X-Men but she couldn’t. She had used so much power to make a shield earlier that there was only enough for her and John.

“Gabrielle, stand still. I’ll not let them hurt you,” Charles tried to calm the frightened woman as she wanted to flee. He let a telepathic shield appear around her to calm her down and hold her close. She finally relaxed, hiding her head against his shoulder and shutting out the world as she had before.

* Gabrielle, don’t go too deep. I don’t want to lose you,* Xavier spoke in her mind, worry clear in his voice.

* When the bad men are gone, I’ll be back. I love you, * Gabrielle’s words formed in her mind and he picked them up easily.

“Rogue, stay back,” Logan yelled as he placed himself before her, popping his claws. He was torn between standing as her shield as Peter did with Kitty or jumping their attackers.

“Go. Ah can take care of myself,” Rogue said and Logan nodded, giving her clothed arm a gentle squeeze now that they had lost the opportunity of real touch, before jumping the guards. He fought wildly and used his claws to stab and slice his enemies to pieces.

“Now, Scott,” Jean said as she was sure he was facing the right way and had a clear shot of their attackers. A beam of red energy left Scott’s eyes, killing his opponents with a stare. For once Scott was glad for his brain damage that meant he couldn’t turn his powers off. He was sure it was this condition which meant that he could still shoot beams from his damaged eye even though he had lost the ability to see with it.

“Ororo, create a wind, knock them out,” Black Thunder said and fired at their attackers with one hand, holding Philip before him as a shield with the other. The guards fired and Philip was hit again and again despite his desperate pleas and screams to his comrades not to fire. Black Thunder let the dead man fall to the floor and drew his other gun and began to fire at them with both hands, killing a few. He swore as he took a hit in his right leg. He quickly glanced at it; it wasn’t too bad but it hurt like hell. At a time like this it would be nice to have some more active and useful mutant abilities, not to mention that it would be nice if he could heal himself and not just others, he thought darkly as he dodged a few bullets with his name on them.

“Right.” Ororo created winds and lighting, throwing it at their attackers. Together with many of the others she still couldn’t bring herself to kill their opponents. Black Thunder, Remy, Scott and Logan didn’t have that problem and killed as many guards as they could. Their anger and hate for these men were for different reasons, but the desire to kill ran deep in them all.

Remy picked up small stones and gravel from the hallway, for once thankful for the lack of proper cleaning in the compound. He formed them into a ball in his hand, energized it and threw it at their attackers. His homemade bomb exploded on impact, killing any guard who was unfortunate enough to be standing too close to where he had aimed. Remy took his eyes off his opponents to check on his friends and saw that several of his friends had been hurt; Scott bled from a wound in the shoulder, Logan in the leg. Ororo had caught a close call to her temple, Black Thunder had been hurt in his right leg and, as Remy looked on, he caught one in his shoulder as well. Bobby had pushed Jubilee out of the way and caught a bullet in his arm for his effort.

There were still soldiers running to the site of battle, outnumbering them horribly and almost as strongly as in New York. Remy saw a gun being raised but not at him and he looked over his shoulder and saw Rogue unprotected in the middle between the others, a perfect target. Her power of absorption wasn’t much good in a fight as she was as affected by it as the men she absorbed. Besides, Logan did his utmost to stop anyone from coming near her, slashing away at the guards. This time, though, Logan hadn’t seen the danger, as he was busy killing some other soldiers who had also been pointing their weapons towards her general area. Looking from the soldier to Rogue, Remy stepped forward between them and threw one of his homemade bombs at the soldier and killed him but not before he had succeeded in firing his weapon. Without thinking of the consequences, he had put himself directly in the line of fire; his only thought that Rogue had to be safe.

“Noooooooooo!” he yelled angrily at the dying soldier. He felt an impact and a burning pain in his chest as he fell to the floor in shock. His breath came in painful grasps and with a shaking hand he touched his chest. It came away sticky with blood, making him fight tears. He couldn’t be dying. Not now! He had just gotten Ororo back. He had just gotten some light back in his world. No, this just wasn’t fair!

  
“Remy?” Scott asked with concern over the noise of battle, having heard his yell but couldn’t see if he was all right. Through his bond with her, Jean had told him Remy had been hurt but the general confusion of the battle made her unable to say anything more.

“Remy! You alright, child?” Ororo asked, worried at having also heard his cry. She flew above Black Thunder, shooting lighting at their attackers and could only spare him a quick glance. He was on the floor but she couldn’t see if he was hurt.

“I’m…fine,” he rasped and closed his eyes. Caught up in severe battle, Scott and Ororo took his word for the truth and returned all their attention to the fight at hand.

That had been a stupid thing to do, Remy thought as he grimaced in pain. He should have planned something so he could have saved her and still lived…there were so many things he had hoped he had had time to see. He would have liked to travel…See the world. He would have liked to find a woman who could love him despite his illness…He could feel his life leaving him, could feel himself grow weaker by the minute. Tears burned in his eyes from pain, anger and helplessness. It just wasn’t fair. He had long ago resigned to the fate that he was living on borrowed time, that his days were numbered and that his life would be shorter than most others but not like this. Not when they were just about to escape and Ororo had just returned to him. Just a week of freedom with Ororo…Why couldn’t he have gotten just one week?

“Remy?” Rogue asked softly and went to him and sat by him, careful not to touch him now that she had her powers back. Remy gave her a strained smile, blood running from his mouth. This was just one of the reasons why they would have been perfect together; she couldn’t touch him and he couldn’t touch her too intimately either, his illness only granting him a little more freedom than her mutation.

“Rogue…” He began painfully, making more blood run out his mouth.

“Oh, God! You’re wounded,” Rogue said shocked and looked around for help but all the X–men were busy, fighting for their lives against the greater force. She looked helplessly at him; she couldn’t even touch him.

“Rogue…I want to…to tell you something,” he rasped and tears came to her eyes and ran freely down her cheeks. He had done this for her. He was dying for her.

“Why?” she whispered brokenly. “Why do this for me?” She couldn’t understand it. Her life was not worth his own.

“Because…I love you. I always have,” he admitted and choked on more blood. “Tell….Stormy…I love her. She was…my friend.” Tears fell from his eyes. She was my only friend, my one true friend he thought softly. Gods, how he had loved her. Ororo, his own savoir who had given him back hope that life was worth living.

The words were simple enough but they left her speechless. He loved her?! Why hadn’t he said anything? Or maybe he had but she hadn’t been listening.

“You tell her that yourself. Remy, you will live. You’ve got to live. Ah won’t lose you,” Rogue cried, having to fold her hands in her lap to keep from touching him.  
  


“Don’t…don’t lie to me now. I know I’m dying. Rogue…tell me now…did I ever stand a chance? Did you ever love me?” his eyes held such love and such anguish that her heart broke. She wanted to lie for him, to say what he wanted to hear.

“Ah…Ah love you," Rogue said tearfully and she saw in Remy’s eyes that he knew it was a lie but now he didn’t mind. He wanted to believe; needed to believe. He needed to believe that he was dying for something, wanted to believe it hadn’t all been in vain.

“Do something…for…me?" he asked weakly as he was fading fast. Rogue had torn a piece of clothing off and was pressing on his wound with it but blood kept bubbling up.

“Anything,” she vowed and prayed she could keep it.

“Kiss me,” he asked softly, something he had wanted to ask her for years. It was such a small thing, such a simple request. Yet they both knew what that would mean, his death because of her mutation. He saw the instant denial in her eyes. “Please, let me touch you…this one last time. Let me live…in you.” Let something of me survive, he added silently as tears ran down his cheeks. My entire life has been a battle…Let me feel like a winner…Just for a few seconds, he silently prayed.

Tears ran freely down her cheeks now and blurred her vision and she sobbed. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, creating trails of his blood on her face. Then she bent over him.

“Ah love you, Remy,” she whispered and this time he knew it was true. She’ll always belong to Logan, she’ll always love Logan but for this moment, this brief flicker of time, she was all his and he smiled. It had been worth it. It had all been worth it. Someone had loved him, truly loved him while he died. Then it had to have been worth it.

“I love you too. Remember me,” he asked, a hint of desperation to his voice. His lips were inches from hers, so close he could feel her breath on his face.

“Always, lov’. Always,” Rogue promised and placed her lips over his. Tears fell from her eyes as she let the kiss last forever. Images and memories invaded her brain. Feelings of love so strong it never broke even in death for her and for Ororo. Images of pain and loneliness from a hard childhood. She saw it all and felt it all. Felt his sadness, his pain, all his secrets…So much pain, so much frustration and agony…So unfair…It was all so unfair! For a moment she was Remy and felt all he had felt, sensed all he had sensed. Finally she drew back from Remy’s lips. Tears dripped from her cheeks onto his now still face. She withdrew her hands from his wound and closed his dead eyes, creating trails of blood down his face like tears. She let a finger softly brush his lips, which seemed to be curved by a smile. She stroked his cheek with her knuckles and whispered,

“I **will** remember. Always.” The words were spoken like a vow, unbreakable and forever. 

A shot whistled over her head and she stood up, tears and fury in her eyes. They had done this. They had killed Remy! Without thinking she picked up some gravel, formed a ball, energized it and threw it at their opponents. It exploded on impact, killing or wounding several guards.

“We have to do something. We are losing,” Cecilia yelled as more soldiers appeared.

“Attack!” they heard a voice yell before anyone had time to reply. It wasn’t just any voice but a very familiar one. “Kill them all and take our brothers and sisters to the ship.”

“Eric!” Charles yelled happily. He had come for him. His long-time friend had searched for him until he had found him. It made him smile and feel warm inside to know Eric still cared that much.

Suddenly the roof of the building was shot clean off by blasts that sounded very familiar to Scott. Could it be…? Had his brother made it and found them? Suddenly Scott wished more than ever that he had his glasses back.

The falling debris from the roof was lifted up in the air and thrown aside by Lorna as it contained metal. The sudden turn of events had everyone holding their fire in surprise, shock and, for some of the guards, also fear.

*It’s your brother, * Jean spoke in Scott’s mind, confirming his suspicions.

“Alex!” Scott cried in joy. His brother had come for them. He had made it. Scott felt proud and happy at the thought.

An older man appeared from the now open sky above them. He flew down towards them and with him were several other flying mutants. A young, green-haired woman held Alex in her magnetic field, making it appear as if he was flying. He spotted his brother and smiled as he waved at him, then stopped as he noticed Scott’s closed eyes.

*Alex is waving at you. He’s coming this way, * Jean spoke warmly through the bond, unable to contain her happiness. Scott smiled widely and waved in the direction of the sounds, assuming it was where Alex was coming from.

“Charles!” Eric cried as he saw him, relief and happiness clear in his voice. He quickly flew down to him and landed beside his old friend. Without hesitation the two men embraced. If any more words were spoken they were said in the minds or hearts of the two long-time friends.

“Scott!” Alex yelled happily, eager to go to him. Lorna landed with him, next to Scott and Jean. When they had landed Alex looked a bit uncertainly at Scott, not sure what to do now that he had finally after all this time found what he was looking for.

*He’s standing right before you. Do something, * Jean urged her husband. Scott’s smile didn’t lessen; on the contrary, as he spread out his arms and Alex went into his older brother’s embrace. Scott closed his arms around his brother in a warm and emotional hug; both too caught up in the moment and their feelings to say anything. Lorna and Jean smiled at each other as they looked at the men in their lives. Then they also embraced warmly.

“I hate to be the party pooper here, but can we get moving?” a young Chinese woman asked as she landed beside her missing team-mates, jumping out of Warren’s embrace. He had flown her to the compound, not wanting Betsy to walk out of a shadow in the compound only to find herself surrounded by guards. Some of the guards had fled in fear of so many free mutants, but some had stayed and seemed to come out of their shock. She let some of her psychic knives fly at their opponents and let such a powerful knife cut down a soldier who had his eyes set on Angel. The soldier fell to the floor, a dead weight with his face twisted into a painful grimace. Alex drew back from his brother and all the other hugs and embraces were dissolved as well.

“Yes, Betsy. We have to leave. Now! They are calling in reinforcements,” Alex explained to his brother as he looked questionably at him for his urgent tone.

“Right. Let’s go,” Scott agreed, a hint of surprise in his voice at the sure command in Alex’s voice and behaviour. He really had grown to the challenge.

Ororo turned around, as most of the guards she had been keeping an eye on were either dead or wounded. She was about to get ready to fly off when her heart skipped a beat by the sight before her.

“Remy! By the Goddess,” Ororo’s voice was devastated and tears ran down her cheeks as she saw Remy lying dead on the floor. She ran to him and cradled him in her arms, crying almost hysterically. She should have taken better care of him. It was all her fault. He shouldn’t have died. He shouldn’t have, was all she could think of.

“We don’t have time for this,” Emma said harshly as she landed beside her missing team-mates and saw Ororo cradling Remy’s dead body. She had liked Remy but it was better to lose one than all.

“All who can fly, take at least one person with you and fly to the ship; just fly in a straight line due North from here and you can’t miss it. We sail when all are on board,” Alex demanded, taking command as he had before, not noticing Scott’s proud look as he heard his younger brother speak.

His team nodded understanding and started to follow his orders. Angel flew down and took hold of Jubilee and flew away with her. Betsy picked up Bobby.

“See you at the ship,” she yelled at the others as she created a hole in the shadows and ushered Bobby through it. Having used so much power and energy in the battle she was too drained to take more than one person with her through her shadow door and it closed behind her.

“Ororo, we need to go,” Black Thunder said softly but urgently as Jean flew with Scott, letting him fly by her power. He laid one hand on Ororo’s shoulder, the other holding his weapon ready should any guards appear. He understood her pain for the boy because he had lost many friends and comrades over the years but they didn’t have time for grief; it would have to wait.

“I can’t leave him,” she whispered brokenly.

 _Not now_ , Black Thunder thought desperately. She needed to move or she’d be recaptured; they both would. He fleetingly considered leaving her behind but was surprised to find that he couldn’t do it, even though her hesitation could mean his death, both of their deaths. That meant that he depended on her for both of their survival and suddenly he realised just how much power he had given her over him without even knowing it. I must love her to be that stupid, he thought darkly, shifting between eyeing Ororo and the hallways.

Charles flew with Gabrielle by Eric’s power, who also took Cecilia with him. He stayed right next to Charles to make sure he wasn’t hurt on the flight from the compound to the ship. Kurt appeared and took John with him and with a “boom” they were gone.

“Then we’ll take him with us. We need to go, Wind Rider. Now!” Black Thunder’s tone was urgent and as if to amplify his point shots whistled through the air as the promised reinforcements began to arrive.

“This party is getting too hot even for me,” Emma said as she killed a few guards. She noticed Rogue who kept shooting at the guards; her cheeks were wet with tears and her eyes seemed empty and far away. “Time to go, sweetcheeks,” Emma mumbled as she grabbed Rogue with her telekinesis and began to fly away with her. To her surprise Rogue began to say something to her in a harsh, sad voice in French which she didn’t understand as she didn’t speak the language. She didn’t know Rogue knew French.

“I know,” Ororo replied to Black Thunder’s plea. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and tried to smile at him but failed.

“Come, love,” Black Thunder urged and helped her to her feet before he lifted Remy up in his arms, his eyes fixed on her. Tears still in her eyes Ororo created a wind and they flew away.

“Rogue?” Logan questioned as he spotted her being taken away by Emma.

“She’s safe. Now come,” Lorna urged and took Logan and Alex with her in a magnetic field and flew towards the ship. They caught up with Ororo and Black Thunder and flew beside them. As they were on their way Alex turned around and pointed his hands at the compound, his eyes questioning the others.

Black Thunder, arms full, nodded in reply to his unspoken question. “The western wing. It’s the soldiers quarters and it’ll destroy the force field generator that holds the slaves in their cells,” Black Thunder yelled at him and Alex made a decision. Plasma blasts exited his hands and the western wing exploded. When they were over the town Black Thunder could see mutants running from the compound, some even flying away. The mutants from the hospital who he had been told how to undo the collars must have helped some of the others get their collars off or they had figured it out themselves.

“All here?” Alex asked as he as the last one landed on the deck with Lorna. Logan eyed Rogue who looked very sad and helpless. He hurried to her and hugged her.

“All accounted for,” Hank answered.

“Then let’s leave this God forsaken place. Let’s go home!” he ordered and Hank nodded. With Angel’s help he started the ship and they sailed away; finally on their way home.

“What about the other mutant slaves?” Charles asked when they felt safer, having come some miles away from shore. He sat a little apart from the others with Gabrielle, she having come a little out of her withdrawal.

“We’re only students, not Gods. The resistance was too great. But I’m sure we freed quite a lot. On our way to the compound we destroyed most of the town and while we attacked the compound in our search for you we also freed some mutants there,” Angel said as Hank sped up the ship and they began to leave the island far behind.

All the wounded had been put on the deck and Cecilia was at work with Jean, taking out bullets and cleaning wounds. Many of the uninjured or lightly wounded helped the two doctors, though not Ororo. She sat off to one side and rocked Remy’s body in her arms, tears falling from her eyes. Black Thunder looked out of place and lost among the X-Men who had known each other for so long. Now split in two groups, those who had been captured and those who had been rescuers, Black Thunder realised he fitted into neither the captive nor rescuer category and wondered if there even was a place for him among these people. His eyes caught Cecilia’s as she cleaned and bandaged his wounds and found understanding in them. She too felt out of place here, giving them a common bond. John seemed to notice the looks between them because he called Cecilia to him to aid him with a patient, giving Black Thunder a warning look over her head which the older man choose to ignore. He looked around to find Ororo and saw her sorrow as she held her friend in her embrace. He was among the lucky ones; he had survived. Anything else could wait; for now he would enjoy the moment and not wonder about all the things that could go wrong in the future. He was free! For the first time in many years he was truly free. He went over and stood beside Ororo, his joy at being free and alive overshadowing the sadness he felt for her loss.

“It will be alright now,” he tried to comfort but she didn’t seem to register his words or his presence; her eyes remained fixed on Remy’s face as tears fell from her eyes. Knowing there really was no comfort to offer the living who wished the impossible, to bring back the dead, he added the only thing he could think of that might cheer her up: “We are free. We are truly free.” His voice was a whisper of wonder as he finally allowed himself to feel the miracle of it…free!

She remained focused on her sorrow and Black Thunder found it best to let her have the time and space she needed to mourn. He laid a hand on her shoulder, giving her the only comfort he had left to offer. The world he was going to would be totally new to him and while he had guided her in his dark world he knew he would now need her guidance in her bright world.

The ship sailed away from Genosha and towards the American coast, towards a new life - a life in freedom. They were all going home.


	35. Saying Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The X-men say goodbye to Remy

## Saying Goodbye

“Dear friends, we are gathered here today to say the last farewell to a beloved friend, Remy LeBeau Monroe,” Kurt began as they were all gathered around the grave they had made for their friend behind the mansion. They all knew Remy had been a faithful Catholic so they had requested his priest to bless the area so he would lay in consecrated soil for his final sleep.

It had been three days since they had escaped, three days since Remy’s death. Those three days had been gloomy and dark, filled with suppressed emotions and tempers flying high. Scott had been very guilt ridden, Ororo had been trapped in her grief and everyone else had been overwhelmed by their own sadness and depression. Logan chose to express his frustration and anger in violence as he often did, resulting in many episodes, especially with Black Thunder whom he had also ended up in a fight with. A fight he would have won if they hadn’t been pulled apart…unless Black Thunder would have given in to his desire to defend himself with a weapon where Logan’s metal skeleton wouldn’t give him the edge it did in hand to hand fighting.

All the couples had had trouble adjusting with suddenly being pulled back into civilisation and the very different demands and regulations there were now put on them. In some ways life as slaves had been easier; the fight for survival had made many issues obsolete. Now free and back home, those issues came back to life and nothing was simple any longer; they couldn’t just pick up where they had left off eight months earlier for they were no longer the same people they had been then. Rogue and Logan mourned her loss of touch as her powers had once again made her untouchable. Despite Jean and Scott’s mental connection they still had problems because of her rape as well as his torture and the loss of his sight in his right eye which, because it was an old and healed injury, Black Thunder couldn’t undo. Cecilia and John’s slumbering issues in regard to their age difference had come back to the surface, Bobby and Jubilee didn’t quite know what to do with each other and Ororo and Black Thunder were more confused than any of them. They had lived eight months alone and isolated from everyone else and now they suddenly had to see their relationship being analysed by everyone else. The couple that had escaped the whole ordeal with the least scars were Kitty and Peter, even though they also had their troubles. Suddenly they had to fight such things as the money issues a baby would bring them and the fact that Kitty was still underage and that they officially weren’t married. All the traumas and ordeals that they had gone through, all the emotional scars they had gotten they had managed to fight back or ignore while on Genosha, the fight for survival having driven anything else to the back of their minds. Now safe and back, the survivors had to fight to get back into a world which suddenly seemed to have changed, which no longer seemed to fit them, all the while fighting back the emotional trauma of their capture.

While Cecilia had been silently accepted into the group, and Gabrielle also, Black Thunder remained an outsider. Some avoided him, some only hinted their hate and distrust while Logan spoke of it quite clearly as did Emma, Eric and some of the others. Though Xavier and Scott had expressed thanks and acceptance and said Black Thunder could stay with them, only Ororo seemed to truly accept him. Black Thunder began more and more to consider leaving but he had no means and nowhere to go. Besides he didn’t want to leave without Ororo who, by a twist of fate, had become his lifeline in her world as he had been hers in his own, and she wouldn’t leave her friends.

The last few days had been hell for them all, but Black Thunder had felt like those first days in freedom had been worse than many months of slavery. Then he had known how to react. On Genosha he had known where his place was and what was expected of him and what he could expect from others. Here he was among people who more or less disliked him and he was unsure of his rights or status. It was uncomfortable to say the least. Jean had sensed his distress and had told him that with time he would find his place. Not so sure about that as she seemed to be, he had thanked her nonetheless, making sure never to touch her in fear of how she or Scott would react to that and not wanting them to have more reasons than they already had to get rid of him. Black Thunder slept very little those nights as did all the others, but while the others’ insomnia was due to hellish nightmares of their captivity or the pain of losing their young friend, Black Thunder worried about a knife in the back. What had been eight months of hell for the X-Men had been eight normal months for Black Thunder, with the exception of Ororo’s presence, so his main concern, as always, had been how to survive one more day.

The three days preceding the funeral had passed slowly – yet too quickly for them all, seemingly all the same, going through daily chores in a state of shock and in a haze of sorrow and pain. The wounded had been tended to and a few tales had been shared but the realisation of being home and free had yet to hit many of them. Already many of the former slaves showed a change in behaviour, having fear-based reactions now. They had all been sleeping in one of the large dining rooms downstairs, all having their own beds but unable to let each other out of their sight after eight terrible months of sleeping together in the same small room, the nearness of friends their only support. Just the other day Kitty had panicked because she hadn’t seen Jean in a while and she had had a terrible flashback, screaming that they had to save Jean before she was hurt. Finally, when Jean had appeared and had assured Kitty that she was fine, she settled down. Black Thunder knew it was only the first of many such episodes and he wondered if the X-Men would be able to get past something like this. If they weren’t careful, the two groups, former slaves and rescuers, would divide in those groups permanently, each having their own demons to fight because of those eight months. Very different demons, which only someone who had shared them would understand.

Black Thunder’s thoughts returned to this day’s events. It was early in the morning when they had all gone out to Remy’s grave. The coffin had been lowered and the grave covered with soil in silence, the evening before with only Scott, Xavier, Rogue and Ororo there. The freshness of the grave alone was heartbreaking but the freshness in the air from the night’s rain, the smell of wild flowers that grew around the grave combined with the first rays of the rising sun as it hit Remy’s headstone was enough to make most of the gathered people get tears in their eyes. Even standing around the grave the group stood divided; the rescuers stood around Alex and Lorna, as knights protecting a valued King, while Xavier and Scott provided Alex’s role to the former prisoners, though some stood even further apart. Cecilia and John stood close to Xavier but still had some privacy; it was Black Thunder and Ororo who stood alone, between the two main groups, belonging to neither. Even in their grief Scott, Jean and Xavier seemed to notice and Jean tried to get Ororo to stand beside her, not missing her husband’s worried thoughts that even though the X-Men had finally been reassembled they could be forever divided.

Everyone’s attention was brought back to Kurt from whatever dark thoughts had occupied them. He began to preach, trying to offer a comfort that none of them felt. He urged them to keep having faith even though life had dealt them all some hard blows, but he could see he had lost some of them to bitterness over the pain and death that had dominated their life for what had felt like forever. Still, he kept his hopes up. He knew that he could reach many of them and he fought to do so: to give comfort to the disillusioned and grieving group. Ororo was crying softly, all dressed in black, Black Thunder’s arm around her shoulder as they stood alone. Ororo was too caught up in her grief to care much or even notice her separation from the others, only seeking what comfort she could in the man beside her. Black Thunder stood tall, meeting everyone’s glances with a hard and calm look, his eyes dry but his face softened with compassion when he looked at the woman by his side, his arm around her strong and as protective as it was possessive; she was all he had left.

The rest of the gathered people wore sad faces, many of them crying and sought comfort in a lover’s arms. Kitty had tears on her cheeks as she leaned against Peter, one hand holding his and the other lay on her growing stomach, finding hope in the depth of her sadness. For this day, Charles had invited Eric to share in the ceremony and he had come with Mystique. He now stood by Charles wheelchair, one hand on his old friend’s shoulder, Mystique just behind him. Gabrielle stood on the other side of Charles and held his hand.

“He was a great man. He saved ma life,” Rogue whispered against Logan’s chest and he tightened his arms around her, his lips softly touching the top of her hair to try and offer her support and comfort.

“And for that I’ll always owe him a debt beyond repay,” Logan whispered softly to her.

“He was the finest of us all. He was my friend and my brother,” Ororo said softly, tears making her voice weak and almost inaudible. Though never hers by blood in any way, she had loved him so deeply he had become an inseparable part of her as if he had been, though they weren’t inseparable anymore. The pain of that reality hurt her in a worse way than any wound ever had.

“He is at peace now. With God in a better place,” Kurt said warmly, his hand with the Bible waving mildly at her as if he wanted her to start reading in it here and now.

“He gave his life for what he believed in. What meant the most to him,” Scott whispered sadly, guilt and pain clear in his voice. ‘If only’s and ‘what if’s had tormented him since Remy’s death and he feared they always would.

“The dream,” Jean said softly and squeezed his hand, through their bond knowing his sadness. Scott shook his head.

“No. Love,” he said simply and silence fell over the grief-stricken friends.

For a moment it was as if they weren’t sure how to end it, how to leave Remy’s gravesite with any kind of closure. Then Ororo’s voice was heard, broken and tear-filled, but she came through:

_Amazing grace! how sweet the sound  
That sav'd a wretch like me!  
I once was lost, but now am found,  
Was blind, but now I see._

She sung quite well but tears mumbled her voice. It didn’t ruin the effect she was trying to make though, on the contrary it focused the divided group. Black Thunder didn’t know the song but tried to mumble along with it as she started again. Scott’s deep voice sang with her, clear and strong, knowing the song by heart:

_  
'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,  
And grace my fears reliev'd;  
How precious did that grace appear,  
The hour I first believ'd!_

When they started the next part, all sang with them, tears clearly evident as they now sung with an intensity and a need for relief as had never been heard before: _  
  
Thro' many dangers, toils and snares,  
I have already come;  
'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,  
And grace will lead me home.  
  
The Lord has promis'd good to me,  
His word my hope secures;  
He will my shield and portion be,  
As long as life endures._

Many voices broke down and faded away, dissolved into tears that stole their breath as those who remained started again:

_Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,  
And mortal life shall cease;  
I shall possess, within the veil,  
A life of joy and peace.  
  
The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,  
The sun forbear to shine;  
But God, who call'd me here below,  
Will be forever mine. _

The song died out, leaving trails of tears on almost everyone’s cheeks. Silence settled again but some of the desperation in their pain had left with the song. Slowly Ororo went forth to stand before Remy’s gravestone and read the inscription given him out loud:

“Here lies Remy “Gambit” LeBeau Monroe.

Beloved brother, friend and team-mate.

He gave his life so others could live.

May he find eternal peace and joy in a better world far from here.“

She smiled bittersweetly at seeing her name added to his; family in everything but blood and she was warmed to see her friends had acknowledged the deep bond she had shared with him. Black Thunder went to her as she kissed the small, simple, exotic and snow-white flower that she had brought with her. The most treasured flower in her greenhouse, she had cut it this morning to give it to her most treasured friend. Now she laid it on her friend’s headstone, before turning to go, not having the strength to stay any longer.

Having seen Ororo cut the flower and hearing she would give Remy something with him in death Black Thunder had wondered what he could and should do. As Remy had meant a lot to Ororo, he had decided to give the brave boy something as well. Without means, all Black Thunder really owned were the clothes and weapons he had escaped with so he gave what he had that he could do without; a small skin bag he had made years ago, small enough that it had been in his west pocket during his escape. He laid it on Remy’s headstone and whispered, “For the bravest warrior,” before returning to the mansion with Ororo. Logan went with Rogue up to stand at the foot of Remy’s gravestone, at the spot Ororo and Black Thunder had just left. Rogue cried and laid a small red heart made from the same material as Scott’s glasses on the soil below his headstone.

“So my heart will always be with you,” she whispered and left. Logan didn’t cry and only people who knew him well could tell about the sadness he carried with him. Not one for words, hints or games he bent down before the gravestone and popped his claws. Below the inscription, he carved only one word yet it said all. He wrote simply, “Hero” before going away with Rogue.

Betsy and Warren draped a big and very expensive bouquet of flowers on the stone before leaving for Warren’s Manhattan apartment to spend some time together and to try and assess if the X-Men were in danger of a repeat of this terrible ordeal. None thought so, according to the sources they had talked with in these three days, but better safe than sorry.

Alex and Lorna lay a small medal of gold they had made for him on his headstone.

“For a friend,” Alex whispered as they left. Charles came forth with Gabrielle on one side, Eric on the other and Mystique going a little off to one side of Eric. Charles placed a small miniature figure of the Mansion at his gravestone.

“So you’ll always have a home,” Charles whispered and left with Gabrielle.

Magneto said softly, “Your death will be avenged,” before going after Charles with Mystique.

Kurt went to Remy’s gravestone, laid one hand on the Bible he held in the other and said solemnly, “The Lord will be with you. Always. Rest in peace,” before going away.

Hank and Emma lay a nice bouquet of flowers down and left for the Mansion.

Jubilee and Bobby placed an ice sculpture of Remy that Bobby had made and it stood inside a small cooled container so it wouldn’t melt.

Cecilia and John lay red roses. “They reflect the love in your heart,” Cecilia said before she took John’s hand and they left together.

Kitty and Peter went to his grave and lay a packet of playing cards on the grave. “We’ll name our firstborn after you if it’s a boy,” Kitty promised and broke down crying.

“Come, Katya,” Peter said gently and lead her away.

Soon only Scott and Jean were left. They went to the stone and Jean laid their flowers before turning to her husband.

“You coming, love?” she asked gently.

“In a minute,” he promised and she placed a soft kiss to his cheek before going to the mansion.

Scott stood before Remy’s grave for a long while, fighting to keep tears at bay. He couldn’t shake his guilt over Remy’s death even though he knew it had been his choice to make. Thoughts and memories clouded his mind until finally after what felt like forever Scott pulled out his visor from his pants pocket and held his glasses in his hands. He opened his eyes and with the precise aiming of the visor he carved words into the headstone. Scott let a hand run over the stone as he left, replacing his visor for his glasses as he did so. He looked back once to look at the inscription at the stone they had all made for their beloved fallen comrade who had paid for their freedom with the ultimate price:

“Here lies Remy “Gambit” LeBeau Monroe.

Beloved brother, friend and team-mate.

He gave his life so others could live.

May he find eternal peace and joy in a better world far from here.

_Hero_

_Adieu, mon ami bien-aimé_.

 _Ta lumière s'est éteinte beaucoup plus tôt que ne le fera jamais ta légende_ [1]

Scott’s message was the last and carved with care and love. As he left the graveside it began to rain like heaven itself was in mourning.

\------------------------------------------------

[1] Scott’s message for Remy was written in French. It translates into: “Farewell, beloved friend. Your light burned out far sooner than your legend ever will”


	36. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. What a ride. This has been one of my longest ongoing novels (not counting “Fellowship Of Heroes” – a X-men/LOTR crossover). I started this story sometime back in 2000 I believe so it has been a part of my life for quite some time. Now that it’s done…it’s a bit strange to think about. The first version of the final chapter was wrapped up in late 2003 while the final version of this novel was finished in March 2004 with the final editing being wrapped up in mid August 2004 with last changes done in July and August of 2005.  
> Okay, enough reflecting. ;)  
> I have a list of people to thank here (besides all the wonderful people listed in the beginning)  
> The wonderful people over at DDFH who have always treated me kindly, all the great people who kindly gave me FB and reviews; that means so much to me. Thanks again to my different betas who have worked with this and helped improve my writing. Special thanks to Nancy and Jonas for wonderful final editing work.  
> Thanks to Estelle with help with the French and Inna for her help with the Russian.

## Epilogue

Ororo walked over the grass, still wet from the morning’s rain, a precious and beloved flower in her hand. She walked alone to the end of the garden of the mansion where Remy was buried, the precious flower cut off to, for a few days, grace his final resting place.

It had been several months since his death yet the pain in her heart hadn’t seemed to lessen much. At first most of them had visited Remy’s grave often, but now only she came every day. Some laid flowers to him once a month, or went to his grave from time to time, but most of them felt that coming too often would deny them closure and the opportunity to move on. Next to her, Scott, Xavier, Jean and Rogue were the most frequent visitors.

Ororo seated herself on the beautifully carved granite bench they had placed next to Remy’s gravestone. She looked at his grave for a little while before she leaned forward and laid her flower, a white rose, on his grave and sat back again. The grave was covered with flowers and the gifts they had laid for him. Rain had marked the gravestone and time had seemed to heal the grave, giving it the look of age. The reminder that he had been gone for a long time now only increased the pain in her heart. She looked around, at the trees and flowers, at the sky and back at the mansion. Then she turned her head back to him.

“It is a lovely morning today. The sun will shine.” Her voice was soft and hid barely-controlled tears. She looked at the flowers on Remy’s grave and let a hand touch them gently before continuing.

“As I told you Kitty and Peter married at City Hall two months ago when finally Kitty’s parents gave their consent to her marriage. She managed to turn 17 before the wedding. Afterwards they had two different ceremonies, first one in Peter’s church and then one in Kitty’s synagogue.” She recalled how hard Peter and Kitty had had to fight to get their parents to accept the union and to get their priests to bless it as well. Though Peter did not feel the need to get either his parents or his priest’s support he would like to have both. However, both pair of parents had only reluctantly given their consent, both having issues about their children’s young age and that they were from two different religions, both coming from families with a strong faith. Despite this Kitty and Peter had never had an issue with it, something that had always pleased Ororo as it brought her hope that the younger generations were by nature more tolerant in their ways. “They refused to buy new rings but still wear the golden machinery bands you stole for them; they have only adjusted the fit a little. They said they’d keep them to remind them of you.” Her voice was soft and she stopped for a while before she went on again. “As I’ve told you Kitty gave birth to a beautiful boy soon thereafter. She and Peter had him baptised, so to speak,…twice,” her eyes sparkled at this, knowing Remy would have found that funny. “First in the synagogue Kitty belongs to, performing the Brit milah and then yesterday he was in baptised the Russian Orthodox church which Peter belongs to.” Ororo had to smile a bit as she recalled one of Kitty and Peter’s very few arguments which had been about their son’s circumcision, something Peter did not wish done and Kitty did to uphold her religion and to avoid fights with her family. In the end he had given in to her and the small argument was long since forgotten by the new parents. “It all went very well.” She fell silent as she recalled how empty it had seemed without Remy there to light up the room. “They named him Remy Michael Nicholas Rasputin…Giving him your first name just like they promised,” she added to try and drive her dark thoughts away and smiled at him.

“You would like him. He is so full of life…like you,” Ororo’s voice threatened to break down and tears fell from her eyes. Why had he had to die? He hadn’t deserved that. He was…had been so young. He had had so many trials in his life already; she had wished him to have some good years before death claimed him. More than anything else she felt robbed; it all felt so unfair. He had survived so long only to die with freedom within their grasps…What was more was that Black Thunder might have been able to heal his illness. Black Thunder had admitted he healed wounds best but he knew he could heal some mild illnesses…maybe he could have healed Remy’s HIV as well? It seemed so pointless that he was gone…He might have had a whole life of joy and happiness in front of him. All his pain and sorrows could perhaps have disappeared. By the Goddess, it was so unfair! She fought to regain her control and fight down her anger and frustration as she wiped her tears away.

“Sorry, child. Where was I? Oh, yes. As I told you Scott and Jean have had some issues as could be expected but they have grown closer, much thanks to their telepathic bond which allow them to always know each other’s feelings so they can’t misunderstand each other. I think Jean is slowly getting better. I talk a lot with her. About what happened. About the rapes. It helps us both.” She let a wind appear and let colourful leaves dance around the headstone in a ring to try and distract her from the pain those memories brought her. She searched her mind for something fun and light to tell him as she let the wind die again. Remy had always enjoyed funny and romantic stories so she tried to find such a story to tell him.

“Bobby and Jubilee moved in together, but they have had very big fights. I think they still have a long way to go before they get over what happened at Genosha.” As do we all, she added silently but then hurried on to the more fun episodes, which had been a result of this. “Remember the whole ice in the bed thing I told you about?” Ororo’s smile died as silence was her only answer. “Oh, well…” she hurried on. “Last night Jubilee shot after Bobby with her firework mutation during an argument but accidentally hit the wall to Peter and Kitty’s room. She made a hole in the wall and they...well, they were having a tender moment,” she smiled at the memory. ”Peter wasn’t happy at all. Especially as little Remy woke up and he and Kitty had just spent hours trying to get him to sleep,” The sun rose and its rays hit the gravestone, making it shine with an almost heavenly light. For a while Ororo sat in silence, admiring the heartbreaking beauty of his grave.

”Gabrielle is getting better. I think,” Ororo said thoughtfully. “She has never spoken a word and probably never will. She uses signs with Charles and us now, which is an improvement because before then she only spoke with Charles. He says they also speak in their minds like Jean and Scott, with him doing all the work of course. That’s nice,” she frowned as she went on. “She’s still afraid of Black Thunder though. Can’t be in the same room as him so they try to avoid each other. Xavier doesn’t care much for him either, and never will I fear, though he’s always coldly polite towards him.” Worry lines were in her face.

Things hadn’t been easy since they had returned home. Black Thunder was still not accepted by most of the others, creating fights, arguments and everything in between. Not only between Black Thunder and the others, but also between her and Black Thunder when his frustration and helplessness exploded. They rarely spoke of their time together on Genosha and if they did it was only about the conversations they had had; never about their ordeals. To her knowledge Black Thunder spoke with no one about how he felt now about his life and all he had been through. He couldn’t get himself to talk with her about it and he trusted no one else…besides Cecilia. Those two shared a bond of common understanding Ororo had come to accept she would never share with him simply because she hadn’t been there for him for years…she hadn’t been the one who had healed his wounds time and time again or had dared to speak up to help others, showing such strength and courage as Cecilia had done. Ororo was sure that if he should ever speak with anyone about the turmoil he had to feel within from time to time despite his strongest control, it’d be her. Cecilia probably knew most of what he had been through for she had been the one to patch him up afterwards and thus he wouldn’t have to talk about the most painful things to her; she’d already know.

Ororo hoped he would eventually open up to her and tell her more about his life but right now he wasn’t ready. Everything was still too new, different and raw for him. He hadn’t even wanted to answer her question about his relationship with the captain but had asked that they never talked of him again and the pain in his face when he had asked her that had made her agree, even though she had wanted to yell at him to talk to her. His tendency to fall into himself and close her out and not share his pain was one of the main reasons for the arguments they had; sometimes in the heat of rage or passion their love and their hate, their need for each other all seemed equally strong. That he had felt out of place and isolated, unsure of his place in the world hadn’t helped them find a new kind of balance in their relationship, away from Genosha. For the first few months after their escape Black Thunder had spent all his time at the mansion for he had no where else to go. He hadn’t liked to spend so much time with so many people who obviously didn’t like him and he didn’t like to live off Xavier’s money when the man barely tolerated him. To have something to do he had wanted to get a job and had wondered what he could work as. He had talked about police officer, soldier, bounty hunter or assassin since his greatest skills were his training as a soldier, a training he had never forgotten. Even after they were free he still slept with his guns within reach and he still trained as intensely as before, pushing his body as far as it could go. She had wanted him to do the first, become a police officer but the idea of being around so many humans who would despise him for what he was and who he wouldn’t trust or care much for hadn’t spoken to him. The idea of being a soldier was out of the question; he would never work for a government who had helped sell some of their own citizens into slavery simply because they were different, even if the order to do so hadn’t been official. That left bounty hunter and assassin and the decision had ended up being a bit of both. He had talked with Betsy and though they had nothing in common but their skills in killing people, they had created their own little team, taking people out who were a threat to their friends or themselves. Sometimes they did hits for money but only if they agreed the man deserved to die, an assessment Betsy often made for them since Black Thunder in general thought all humans deserved to die. Black Thunder felt that, even if the humans weren’t a part of a anti-mutant hate group, their passivity meant they agreed with all the intolerance the minority groups in their country were subject to and thus they were just as bad in his eyes. His work with Betsy had helped him feel better about himself, feeling like he could still contribute somehow. Ororo had accepted his work but it was like back on Genosha: they never talked about it and she preferred not to know. Despite his new job they still had their ups and downs but they both clung to their relationship and each other as if they’d die without that lifeline.

She had few supporters on her relationship with Black Thunder; many thought it was because she needed a support in this hard time and that she had grown unnaturally attached to him, as he had been the one to rescue her. Even Xavier had warned her about it, saying she did possess some Stockholm-like symptoms. It hadn’t helped her in her grief and pain to also be confused about her feelings; wondering if they were real or not. However, time had made it a little better. As the others slowly began to heal, their distrust and hate grew more silent. The world didn’t stop because they had been through hell and so they had fallen into an almost normal everyday life; the normality of it all annoying Ororo, Jean and many of the others. The fact that the world hadn’t changed but they had, made it feel like the outside world was oblivious to their pain - as if their ordeal had never happened.

“Her reaction is quite understandable, of course,” she admitted about Gabrielle’s reaction to Black Thunder, when she remembered what Black Thunder had admitted he had done to her. If Xavier had seen Black Thunder torture the woman he loved when he looked into her mind, Ororo had to admit that the professor showed he was more than worthy of so many mutants’ faith and trust in him when he understood that Black Thunder had done it not because he had wanted to but because he himself had been so tortured he hadn’t known what was going on around him, his soul shattered and his mind confused. The coldness Xavier had in his kindness towards Black Thunder was a small price to pay and more than understandable when he probably had seen, maybe even shared Gabrielle’s pain when he had found the memories in her mind.

Ororo’s thoughts returned to Black Thunder. She had always hated violence but her ordeal had made some lines blurry. In Black Thunder she could accept things she had never thought she would be able to accept in a lover. Even if the pain he had inflected on Gabrielle hadn’t been him…hadn’t been the man she loved, before she would still had been unable to accept it. Now it was something she pushed away, didn’t want to think about. It was something he couldn’t have prevented, like so much on Genosha. No, she didn’t want to think about that. All she wanted to think about, all she could overcome thinking about right now, was her love for him. Yes, she did love him. In the confusion and pain in her mind she needed that, needed love and the assurance that it really was love she was feeling. After some minutes of dark thoughts on the authenticity of her own feelings and memories of her days as a slave she then smiled brilliantly at Remy, or rather the headstone.

“Black Thunder proposed. We have set the date for next Wednesday.” It would be nice to be married, to feel something was safe and normal and simply always there. “I would have liked for you to be there,” she admitted, her smile fading. Her inability to let Remy go had also put a strain on her relationship with Black Thunder but he had been patient and tried to help, giving her the space she needed. She had come to the conclusion that even if what she felt wasn’t true and undying love then it was something that helped her remain calm and sane in a world which had suddenly crashed down upon her and as such was something she didn’t want to left go of and he seemed to feel the same way. “We’ll have two ceremonies. First a Native one from his religion and then one for me, receiving the Goddess’s blessing,” she continued, imagining the ceremonies done in a beautifully decorated flowery garden as they had agreed on. She sat in silence for a while, wrapped in her happiness over this event and how she imagined it would be. Only one large dark cloud loomed; Remy wouldn’t be there.

“John and Cecilia will marry this spring when John turns 19,” she told him, trying to drive away the returning dark clouds. Since Remy’s death her fight against her own darkness had been one of her hardest battles. “She is pregnant and they want to marry before the baby is born. Cecilia says it’ll be a girl.” Ororo smiled at that; she had always loved children. Maybe Black Thunder would grant her children one day; he had said he would love to and that having her own child might help her fight her sadness in the light of the love for a child. “They will move out of the Mansion. Cecilia has gotten a good job in Washington. I fear we will not see them so much but they will try and make it for the holidays although with Cecilia being a doctor and all it is not certain she’ll be able to make it,” Ororo was glad for them but sad to see them leave. She hadn’t been sure their relationship would last out in the real world. As captives, they had taken whatever happiness they could get and no one had judged them. Out here the world would condemn their relationship on account of the large age difference between them. They had had many bumps in their relationship already; Cecilia had felt guilty about being with John when he was so much younger than she. John had felt inadequate because of his inability to grant her all the things he wanted to give her and their child and their frustrations, fears and doubts had fuelled large arguments. In the end though they had realised what they had was a true thing, something they didn’t want to lose. Even knowing it wouldn’t be an easy ride they had sworn never to be torn apart again. Maybe they would make it…Like all the couples who had been through the hell of Genosha or had been created there, her own with Black Thunder included, it would be a fight to make things work and there were no guarantees. All they could do was fight, like they had done before only this was a different kind of battle but a battle nevertheless.

“Things are slowly returning to normal. Well, a new kind of normal. Eric comes often to visit Charles. I doubt we’ll fight him again. He and Charles have reached an agreement. Charles will look the other way when Eric goes after anti-mutant fanatics, and Eric will not kill innocents.” Strange how they had all gotten used to Eric’s presence. Since Xavier’s return the older man had also seemed milder, more aware that he could lose his beloved friend and so their arguments almost always ended in compromises.

“Scott is learning how to get by with only one eye and seems to be slowly working through his torture. He has put much of his energy into helping torture victims and has spoken up for an official involvement from the Government against Genosha. He has even mentioned the idea of going into politics, saying that is the way to really change things for the better.” She smiled at that. One had to admire his strength and determination though she also knew and thought he did too, that his almost fanatic interest in his work, to help others like him and end the terror reign on Genosha was his way of dealing with what had happened to them. “He and Logan have grown much closer, almost like brothers, as if a special bond has connected them to each other through their shared ordeal.” She grew thoughtful. “I think they may discuss the things that happened at Genosha with each other.”

She was happy at the thought that her friends could find some sense of peace together as they hadn’t discussed it with any one else. Maybe because of that, the group of X-Men still remained torn; those who had been left behind turned to Alex for advice and leadership while the former slaves still looked to Scott. There was an understanding of each other’s pain, a great respect and love through shared experiences that only existed within the groups. It had taken them a month before they had started sleeping in separate bedrooms but all the ones who had been at Genosha now had bedrooms right next to each other, no one wanting to let each other out of sight for too long. There had been many episodes of fear-based reactions and flashbacks, one of which had been Scott who had been so trapped inside an agonising flashback of his torture that he, in a panic, had blown a hole through one of the mansion’s walls. Thanks to Jean’s fast thinking and use of her powers he had only damaged the wall but it had still sent him into another guilt trip. Still slowly, with time, it got better and the former slaves slowly got better at not jumping at any and all sudden sounds, though some things were still too hard to look at, like whips. Any kind of whips would send them all into a flashback, going white as sheets, and thus they had thrown out all the whips Xavier had had for the horses. In their pain many of the X-Men who had been captured had had a hard time offering support to the ones who had been left behind. Though they hadn’t been slaves they had been through an emotional hell, which was just as hard for them to work through. Maybe in time when their wounds weren’t so fresh the groups would grow back into one but for now it was and remained split, one lead by Alex and the other by his brother with the council of Xavier and with Logan as his right-hand man and Ororo as his second in command. Scott’s group had the steady and firm structure of a military command and the knowledge of age, both things that were lacking in Alex’s leadership though he made up for it with his determination and ability to seek others council. Both groups stood strong and dealt with things their own way. There was only love between the groups but a great lack of understanding and ability to open up about their pains and fears kept them apart all the same. Ororo hoped that in the future when time had healed them better they could close that gap between them again. For now though it was okay as it was; they were safe and they were all okay…all save Remy.

“You probably want to hear about Rogue. She’s doing fine,” Ororo quickly assured him as if to calm him. “As I told you, she and Logan now share a room but Rogue will not marry yet. She’ll search for a cure against her mutation first, saying it’s not fair for Logan to marry a woman he can never touch.” Ororo’s voice became sad. “I fear she’ll never find it.”

Rogue’s pain over her own mutation had grown since she had returned. In Genosha she had felt what it was like to touch, truly touch, been reminded of it, been given hope…and then had it taken so brutally away. Besides a cure, they had all also tried to get their hands on a Genoshan collar so she could touch people when wearing it as it neutralised her powers, but so far they hadn’t gotten one. Genosha was a closed land so nothing came in or out. Everyone, especially Logan, had been sad and unhappy that in their eagerness to escape none of them had thought of bringing a collar back with them for Rogue. Still…she had a bad feeling that Logan could talk Scott into doing something drastic for love…she just hoped it wasn’t what she feared.

She shook her fears off her and looked at the headstone, letting her fingers caress his name on it. “She still has your powers. The professor says she has them permanently. I kind of like it. It is like you never really left. You’re still here. With me. In some way.” Her voice was warm but sad. Not only sad over the loss of Remy and the bittersweet reminder Rogue now was to them all but also because the fact that Rogue had Remy’s powers was something Logan had had a hard time dealing with. Knowing of Remy’s love for Rogue and adding to that her refusal of his marriage proposal, even though he knew she did it out of love for him, Logan still had a hard time adjusting to it all, by nature being as protective as he was possessive.

“She also has your memories,” Ororo whispered softly. “She has talked Jean into making an HIV and AIDS research group, founded and supported by Warren’s and Xavier’s finances.” She smiled a little at that. She liked that initiative. The world needed all the help it could get to find a cure towards the deadly illness, which had plagued her young friend since birth. “She remembers your pain and frustration…Your helplessness. She knows you never wished anyone to feel what you did or go through the loneliness and pain that you did so she did this for you…trying to help others.” Her voice broke down as she brought back memories of Remy and how sad and lonely he often had been, isolated in his fear and the knowledge that he was living on borrowed time. She would have done anything to ease that pain and she hoped Rogue’s idea could help others who suffered as Remy had.

Ororo sat in silence by Remy’s grave for a while, trying to drive away the sad memories of how short and lonely a life Remy had had and how unfair she felt it all was, not just his death but all the hardship he had had to endure. She heard Jean’s mental call to please come for breakfast and her thoughts were broken. She stood then knelt by the headstone.

“I still miss you every day, my beloved friend. I will always love you. I pray you remember that wherever you are.” With tears glistening in her eyes, she kissed the headstone gently then rose and walked away.

The wind blew softly over the land as Ororo walked over the grass towards the mansion. Black Thunder met her halfway and took her in his arms, kissing her softly on the lips before taking her hand. They walked towards the mansion in silence, him respecting her need to settle down a little after her morning talk with Remy.

Ororo looked around and up at the sky, seeing the sun beginning to rise and bathe everything in a warm light. It was going to be a beautiful day. A day to try and heal. To try and start over. A day to honour the dead and try to move on. A day to cry and a day to love. This was the day. And the most wonderful thing was...it was another day…in freedom and she knew she’d spend the rest of her life fighting for the freedom and equality of all human beings. What she had gone through no one should ever have to endure and to prevent that she would remain with Xavier and fight for justice and equal rights for all. For now she still had her own battle to fight, against her own thoughts and memories but she had hope that in time she would have the strength to fight for others.

“Let’s go home,” Ororo said softly to Black Thunder and he smiled warmly at her, planting a soft kiss to her cheek as they walked towards the mansion together. They all still had a long way to go and there were no guarantees that it would all work out with a happy ending but they would fight to make it, fight as they always had, fight together, and for now…that was enough.

###  The End

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it please let me know by leaving a comment or kudos. It will mean a lot to me.


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